


falling into you

by stylinsoncity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alpha Harry, Alpha Liam, Alpha Niall, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - School, Angst, Bullying, Flashbacks, M/M, Omega Louis, Omega Zayn, POV Multiple, Past Abuse, Pining, Slow Build, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:25:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 143,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stylinsoncity/pseuds/stylinsoncity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**7 September 2017**

Being an alpha came with a lot of perks.

Strength, for one. Without trying, it was said an alpha could lift three times his weight. And what he could do when he did try? That was limitless.

Being an alpha came with a wealth of power and influence. Should a person cross him it was always in their best interest to submit. The cost was either a broken limb or a broken ego.

But of all the benefits, Harry possessed none. Of all the traits so indicative of his kind, Harry was the exception. In every way an alpha might describe himself, the opposite was true for him. Which obviously never worked in his favour. Right now, it was working very much against him.

“My paper isn’t gonna write itself, Styles.”

Harry hiked his rucksack further onto his shoulder, looking at the boy in front of him and his smarmy, acne-ridden minions flanking him on either side.

Liam Payne certainly lived up to his surname, as he was the biggest, most prominent pain in Harry’s seventeen-year-old arse. They'd known each other for about that long, attended the same church in Holmes Chapel, and when they were just boys, their mums would sit them together on old wooden pews in hopes that they would grow up to be best mates. How could Anne have predicted that Liam would grow up instead to be the person single-handedly responsible for turning Harry’s school life into the innermost ring of hell?

There Harry stood against a row of rusty blue lockers, summoning an appropriate response to “my paper isn’t gonna write itself, Styles,” which Liam said with a little shrug of his shoulders, genuinely at a loss about how this recent wrong could be set right. God forbid he should actually have to sit down and, you know, write his own paper.

“I told you I’d have it for you by the end of the week,” Harry explained.

“Harry,” Liam said disappointedly. “Do you think I’ve got my weekends just open for whenever you’re good and ready? Do you think I don’t have a schedule?”

Harry took a deep breath, glancing at the double doors towards the end of the corridor, trying to figure out how likely it was that he could make it to them without Liam catching up to him. Not very likely, if he was being honest.

“When would you like me to have it by then?” Harry asked, sweetly.

“How about tomorrow morning? You’ve got nothing on tonight, right?” Liam asked. “Right. So tomorrow morning then. Same place.”

Harry’s mouth hung open a little. “Tomorrow— We have an exam tomorrow. I have to study tonight.”

Liam, who had begun to turn away with his minions in tow, glanced at Harry. “No one said you couldn’t study, Harold.”

Harry felt his face flush with anger because first, that wasn’t even his fucking name and second, there was obviously no way Harry could study for his exam and write a paper all in one night.

“I can’t—” Harry began, clutching the strap of his rucksack tighter. “I wouldn’t be able to do that. To write a paper and study. I can’t.”

Liam frowned, turning back to face Harry completely, the fake smile he wore sliding right off his face. This was it. Whenever Liam stopped smiling, Harry always knew what came next. Which excuse would he have to use this time when he returned home with bruises? How would he explain staying up all night to write a paper and study?

Liam was gripping the thin material of Harry’s t-shirt at his shoulder, a friendly gesture it seemed but his fingers dug in too deep. “You can’t?” he asked.

“No,” Harry said, clenching his fist. He always put up a good fight despite always losing. Liam’s eyes narrowed into slits and Harry braced himself.

“Liam.”

Both of their heads snapped to the right of the hallway and Liam’s hand immediately dropped away from Harry’s button-up uniform shirt. In an instant, Liam went from being a loaded gun, cocked and ready, to its dismantled pieces.

The dark haired boy standing at the end of the hallway had a look of disapproval on his face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights in the corridor was anything but flattering. But for him, they were like spotlights on a runway. Nothing in the world could ever make him appear as anything less than beautiful.

“Zayn,” Liam said, almost weakly. And even though Harry had witnessed this happen before (and had come to consider Zayn a guardian angel for the many times he’d spared him of a fight just by showing up), Harry would never stop being amazed by the way Liam turned soft in the presence of this boy. In the presence of his omega.

Harry couldn’t understand their relationship because he didn’t understand alpha and omega relationships in general. And he didn’t really have to. The day he mated with anyone would be the day Liam Payne apologised for being such a prick.

Liam shot another glare at Harry. “We’ll chat about this later,” he said. But they definitely wouldn’t. If there was one thing Harry was good at, aside from writing papers, it was evading Liam. He would hide in a tree before he ran into him twice in one day.

Liam strolled away from Harry, one of his minions giving Harry a shove into the lockers behind him for good measure. Harry watched them walk away, meeting Zayn’s apologetic gaze for only a moment before Liam slipped his arm over his shoulders.

As they began walking away, Harry’s eyes fell on the other boy a few paces behind Zayn, his hands tucked into the pockets of his blue vintage jacket, his shoulders hunched. Harry tried very hard not to look at him, too embarrassed with his dishevelled shirt and flushed cheeks, but he could only last so long. The boy’s gaze flickered to Harry’s for only a moment but it was enough. One glance from him and everything Harry had gone through that morning felt infinitesimal and unimportant.

In the grand scheme of adolescence and boyhood, Harry was still working himself out, so far with little luck. But four things he could say for certain: 1) he'd been at the top of his class all through primary and secondary school, 2) he was the shittiest alpha to ever walk the earth, 3) Liam Payne never let him forget it, and 4) he’d been in love with this boy, Louis Tomlinson, ever since he was fifteen years old.


	2. Chapter 2

**8 December 2014**

That school year started much the way the previous one ended. Harry was still a late-blooming alpha, Niall was still his only friend, and he still had a burning hatred for Liam Payne. Nothing had changed and he suspected nothing would.

So Louis came into his weary life like both a glass of crisp water and a cup of warm tea.

Year 9 was also the year Harry’s ruts started, as his mum said they would around his age. In some part of his mind, he hadn’t believed her. The impending doom of a rut seemed a little less impending coming from his parents, who were betas with only a general understanding of how alpha-hood worked. Harry didn't take ruts seriously until he had to.

The first time it happened he was hidden in Niall’s room, their eyes focused on the telly where one of Greg’s cheap pornos was playing. A year or so prior, he could vaguely remember his mum trying to explain triggers to him. Certain things were known to set off an alpha’s rut: anger, stress and — Harry would later learn — porn (not from his mum, of course). But again, he hadn’t been paying much attention.

So when a ginger woman began whimpering and whining on the telly, he was taken by complete surprise by the sudden aching need to bury his prick inside something — anything. He was terrified, alarmed and left to scramble up and out of Niall’s room. He ran home, he went up into his treehouse and wanked repeatedly until the tempest was momentarily tamed.

Subsequent ruts went a bit more smoothly. After ejaculating about five or six times, he could function somewhat normally. He spent a day or so knocking out orgasms and eventually decided that this aspect of being an alpha was definitely the least daunting. Everything else was still shit.

His latest rut kept him out of school, which was nice. Days missed for biological predicaments counted as excused absences and didn't ruin his otherwise pristine record. But final exams were approaching and he couldn't afford to miss more than a day of review. He showed up the next day — a Thursday, he wouldn't forget, with a rare but thin layer of snow coating the frozen earth — already feeling behind when Niall announced that he had news.

“Louis and Zayn,” Niall said around a bite of his jam sandwich.

Harry raised both brows. “Who?”

“New students,” Niall clarified like that information was in any way relevant to them. That kind of thing only mattered to popular people who had a shot at making friends with new kids, not people like Harry and Niall. Or at least, people like Harry. Niall was actually quite likeable and maybe if he didn’t hang out with Harry as much, he’d have more friends. (Whenever Harry told him this, Niall would shrug or say, “Yeah, but I have you.” And that would be the end of that.)

Still, Harry was curious. It was already December. Anyone who started school this late in the term had to have an interesting backstory. He didn’t get the chance to ask Niall more before they parted ways for their first class. He wondered if Louis and Zayn had even arrived or if they were due to show up later.

And then an hour later, the door of Mrs Grantham’s classroom opened and in stepped a boy with soft brown hair, sweeping across his forehead and just missing his lashes. And everyone had no choice but to stare.

“Class, this is Louis” — Mrs Grantham glanced at her notepad and added, “Tomlinson.”

Louis smiled, half-hearted and small.

“We’ll get you better situated after class, Louis. For now why don’t you have a seat next to— Harry, could you raise your hand?”

Harry’s hand shot up obediently and Louis’ gaze flickered to his. He gave a little nod of his head and walked towards the desk, slipped into the chair and placed his notebook and his pen down.

Louis glanced at him, brow furrowing. “You can put your hand down.”

Harry dropped his hand, face warming. He had the loveliest voice, crisp and soft like a bell. Probably the only time Harry would hear him speak directly to him.

They were leaving the classroom when he heard, ‘Hey’ and turned back. Louis stood there wearing that half-smile again. Harry glanced around making sure he wasn't speaking to someone else.

“Do you happen to know where room 38 is?” Louis asked. “Mrs Grantham said you could show me.”

Harry paused. “Yeah, yes. I do. I can. It’s— I can just walk you there. If you’d like,” he said, exhaling.

Louis looked a little concerned. “If you don't mind,” he said reluctantly.

“Not at all,” Harry said. “It’s this way.”

Louis walked quietly beside him, oblivious to the way others stared at them. Harry noticed though. He couldn’t help the momentary surge of pride he felt walking beside Louis. He led them down another corridor and then stopped in front of room 38.

“Here you are,” he announced.

Louis smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Harry said. “Um…if you need any more help—”

“Lou,” someone called.

Louis looked past Harry’s shoulder just as a boy appeared beside him.

“I just met—” the boy began. He noticed Harry and stopped. “Who’s this?”

“This is Harry,” Louis said.

He’d remembered his name. Harry peeled his eyes away from Louis’ face and waved.

“Hi,” Harry said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Harry Styles.”

“Zayn,” the boy said, shaking Harry’s hand once.

“Very nice to meet you,” Harry said earnestly. “Both of you.”

Louis smiled, lips pressed together to suppress a laugh, though Harry didn’t feel like he was being mocked the way he did around most people. Louis’ eyes were warm and his smile fond and the effect of both was that of a drug, rushing through Harry’s veins in ways he didn’t understand and had never felt before.

“Harry walked me to class,” Louis said to Zayn.

“That was nice of him,” Zayn replied.

“I think so, yeah. Unless he’s got motives,” Louis said, side-eyeing Harry.

Harry frowned. “Motives?”

Louis tilted his head a little, observing him. “You’re an alpha, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. How did you— Can you tell just by looking at me?” Harry wondered.

Zayn and Louis exchanged another look. Be nice if they stopped doing that. “I make it my business to know,” Louis said. “All omegas do.”

Zayn nodded in agreement.

Harry glanced between Louis and Zayn. “Are you both…?” Harry trailed off. Because it all made sense now. There was a reason Louis smelled so pleasant, why Harry felt drawn to him for reasons he suspected had nothing to do with how good-looking he was. If Harry was more attuned to being an alpha, he might have picked up on it sooner than he did now. Because now it seemed obvious. Louis was an omega, and so was Zayn.

“Right,” Harry said, sucking in a breath feeling a little overwhelmed. He hadn’t talked to many omegas before. His cousin was an omega and the boy who lived down the street who sometimes rode his bike past Harry’s house was an omega too. But his cousin was only five and the boy down the street had spoken to Harry once three years ago and then never again. So being faced with two beautiful omegas in near proximity to him, all in the span of one hour was rightfully…overwhelming.

Louis smiled that smile again, the half-laughing smile. He looked at Zayn. “What were you saying before? About meeting someone?”

“Oh, yeah, I met someone,” Zayn said. Louis looked at him to go on. “And he said we should eat lunch with him and his mates.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, alright,” he said after a moment. “How about you, Harry? Who eats lunch with you?”

“Niall,” Harry said. “You wouldn’t know who that is, but—”

“Why don’t we all sit together?” Louis said, undeterred. “You and Niall, me and Zayn, and this bloke he’s met.” He said the last part suspiciously.

“Yes,” Harry said eagerly. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. He tried again, more calmly. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Ace,” Zayn said, like he truly meant it. “See you at lunch then.”

Harry nodded, gaze lingering on Louis for a moment before he turned and practically skipped off to find Niall. Because holy shit, Harry had just been asked to lunch by the new kids. Who were omegas. Really fit omegas. And if that wasn’t reason to skip to class, he didn’t know what was.

Harry did manage to share the good news with Niall, albeit in a typo-ridden text message he composed between classes. By the time lunch came around, he was a bit of a wreck. His armpits and palms were sweaty, his curls droopy and he looked terrible.

But he got his lunch out of his locker and wandered off to the canteen anyway.

In his haste and in the bubble of euphoria that had formed around him since the morning, Harry had forgot about Liam, which almost never happened. His bully of over ten years was always at the back of Harry’s mind, keeping him perpetually anxiety-ridden, whether he was physically in front of Harry or otherwise. But Harry hadn’t thought about Liam that day, not even a little, thanks to Louis. Maybe with him here, things would change after all.

Or maybe Harry would step into the canteen to see Liam sat at a table between Zayn and Louis, laughing and smiling like if the last 10 years hadn’t happened, he could actually be a nice person. But they had happened. And Liam was the worst person and he was now sat beside the boy Harry thought could be the best.

Harry froze in place, gripping the paper lunch bag in his hand tighter. As if telepathically alerted to his presence, Louis chose right then to look away from Zayn and Liam, and his eyes found Harry.

He raised his hand to wave. Harry took a step back. The loud clatter of a tray hitting the floor registered with him in the same second that lukewarm liquid began to trickle down his lower back. In that instant, everyone — within the canteen and without, lining the hallway outside of the double doors, all of the teachers, Niall who had appeared out of nowhere — stopped and looked at him.

Harry glanced back at the girl standing there with a blue lunch tray at her feet, the contents of which — sausages and mash — now smeared the back of Harry’s white Oxford shirt.

After that brutal stretch of silence, everything else happened quickly. Liam was the first to laugh. Because of fucking course he was. Harry’s face turned crimson and he chanced a glance at Louis, who happened to be frowning at Liam. Then Louis turned his head to catch Harry’s eye but by then, Niall had grabbed Harry’s arm and dragged him off to the loo.

Harry never saw the expression on Louis’ face. But if he was grateful for nothing else in that moment, he was at least grateful for that.

+

Harry had dealt with worse.

In Year 6, Liam had hidden the class pet, Richard the Roach, away in one of Harry’s rain boots, though Harry didn’t figure that out until they were rushing out to the playground and Harry had pulled on his rain boots to hear the crunch and feel the squish of something under his foot when he stood up. Richard’s mangled body made Harry sick all over the floor and got him sent home for murder. All the while, Liam laughed.

In Year 7, Harry asked Julia Kelly out after he found a note in his cubby saying that she fancied him. Honestly he should have known better. The sloppy handwriting was a clear indicator that something was awry. Harry didn’t figure that something out until Julia’s brother Kevin dumped vanilla pudding over his head for making up lies about his sister. All the while Liam was curled over his lunchbox, laughing and laughing as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever done. Funniest thing he’d ever do.

Not so. In Year 8, Liam told everyone that he’d snogged Harry’s sister, Gemma, behind the dirty stacks at the public library. Then he wrote it on the chalkboard so that when Harry walked in that morning, it was the first thing he saw. In retrospect, the reaction Harry had was actually quite funny. He could be likened to a rocket set for lift off with the way his whole face and neck went red hot and his entire body began to shake, fists curled so hard he cut half-moons into his palms. Liam certainly found it funny, because he laughed even louder than he had after the incident with Julia Kelly.

Harry was a pacifist by nature. Probably why he could never be the aggressive alpha people expected him to be. Except on this day, pacifism floated into the void. Say what you wanted about Harry. But you’d never insult his sister and get away with it. On that day, he hit Liam as hard as his fourteen-year-old hands could manage. He lost the fight, of course. Especially after Liam’s henchmen jumped in. But he left a shiner on the other boy's left eye that he remained proud of for years to follow.

There were plenty of times before and after that one too. The plethora of altercations Liam instigated had no clear beginning and no foreseeable end. Their severity and brutality only escalated as time passed. Fifteen years had left Harry with little choice but to get used to it.

The incident in the canteen paled in comparison to the ones before -- (killing Richard the Roach would never stop haunting him) -- but having Louis there to witness it everything seem worse than it was. And that was what sent Harry right back into a rut.

He let himself get too worked up. When he was in the loo, rinsing off his shirt so the gravy wouldn’t stain, he couldn’t stop thinking about Louis’ face, and the expression he hadn’t seen. Looking into the mirror, his own face was flushed, his body shaking, reminiscent of Year 7 before he’d punched Liam. Before he knew it, he was feeling hot all over and ravenous. He heard Niall beside him, telling him to “chill out” but it was too late. He fled home, needing a wank and maybe a cry.

+ 

**11 December 2014**

The pitiful look Louis wore on his face when he slinked up beside him at his locker was all the proof Harry needed.

“Hi,” Louis said.

Harry stared unwaveringly into the dark space of his locker. “Hi,” he said after a moment.

“How are you?” Louis asked. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Louis tilt and duck his head, trying to catch Harry’s gaze.

“Fine,” Harry replied, pulling a book out of his rucksack and sliding it into his locker.

“I know I have a zit on my forehead. But I didn’t think it was that bad, to be honest. Sorry if it offends you so much you can’t even look at me,” Louis said.

Harry’s lips twitched with a smirk and he chanced a glance at Louis’ forehead in search of said zit. “Liar,” he said. Louis’ skin was flawless, as expected.

“Made you look,” Louis said. “I’m sorry about what happened a few days ago.”

“Why are you sorry?” Harry said, frowning.

“I just sat there. Could have been a bit more useful,” Louis said. “Given Liam a good whack even?”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it. He’s an alpha.”

“Yeah, big deal. He’s a dickhead, he is,” Louis said.

Harry pressed his lips together but he couldn’t stop the dimple from popping in his cheek.

“Apparently that doesn’t stop Zayn from liking him though,” Louis said. “They’re dating now, I think.”

“That’s fantastic,” Harry droned. Liam pulling Zayn into his circle pretty much guaranteed Louis’ inclusion as well and that was the one place, Harry would never be able to reach him.

But if Harry was being honest, what shot did he have at reaching Louis in the first place? It was never going to work. Even now, it wasn’t like Louis was talking to him because he was genuinely interested in him. If anything, Louis just felt sorry for him. Harry was, after all, the weakest alpha Louis had probably ever met. Anyone would feel sorry for someone like that.

“You know, you probably shouldn’t talk to me,” Harry said. “Liam hates me.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Louis asked.

Harry’s gaze flickered to him. “It’s just probably better for you. Stick with Zayn and Liam. I don’t need new friends.”

“Who said anything about us being friends? My mum tells me not to trust alphas anyway,” Louis said matter-of-factly.

“I’m trustworthy,” Harry argued.

Louis smirked. “What’s that matter? You just told me to stay away from you.”

Harry looked into his locker again, his cheeks tingeing. Louis watched him with his playful blue eyes, smug tilt to his lips, and Harry swore he was perfect. And it would never work.

“Look, I mean it,” Harry said. “It’s not just that Liam hates me. It’s that he aims to make my life miserable. I’m like a fucking joke to him because he’s the strongest alpha and I’m the weakest. I don’t even feel like an alpha half the time so—“

“Hey—” Louis began.

“No,” Harry cut him off. He took a deep breath. “It’s better this way. Your mum’s right. You shouldn’t be friends with alphas. Most of them are tits and then there’s people like me who aren’t good for anything, really.”

“That’s a load of shit,” Louis said.

“Whatever you say. But it is what it is,” Harry said. “Just do yourself a favour. I don’t need new friends and you’d be better off without one like me.”

Louis blinked at him. “And you’re sure about that?”

“Absolutely,” Harry said, shutting his locker.

Louis continued staring at him. Up ahead, Liam and Zayn rounded the corner, Liam’s minions trailing behind them like flies (seriously, did they even go to this school?).

Harry sucked in a small breath. “Your friends are here,” he said.

Louis glanced behind him. “Harry,” he began to say.

But by then, Harry had made it a couple feet away and was determined not to look back. It wasn’t like he had much choice. Liam was there, his metaphysical circle of power extending around Louis and shutting him off and away from Harry.

It was better this way.


	3. Chapter 3

**24 December 2014**

Harry looked forward to winter hols more than anything. Any days spent away from school were good days. Even if he ended up bored, even if he slept through most of it, anything was better than being around Liam or having to avoid Louis.

He still had to see Liam at church sometimes, on those Sundays when Anne decided it was time they restore their faith, which was about once every four months or on Easter and Christmas. But Liam was normally on his best behaviour at church, what with the Lord and Jesus and his mum watching and all.

But aside from that, winter holiday was a haven, which Harry spent the first few days of reading, playing video games with Niall, and generally just breathing without the fear of Liam and his henchmen betas wreaking havoc in his life.

On Christmas Eve, Harry finally left the house with a list of supplies his mum had forgotten for tomorrow’s dinner. He walked the mile to Tesco by himself, the sun slowly fading ahead of him. It was frigid out but with his mitten-clad hands tucked in his pockets and a scarf wrapped around his neck and under his nose, it was manageable, almost enjoyable.

Harry had stepped into Tesco and grabbed a shopping basket, his mind already set on finding baking soda, when someone caught his eye. He didn’t know what it was about the way the person was stretched up on their tiptoes, reaching for a box of pancake mix, that made Harry think of Louis. The person nudged the edge of the box just enough that it toppled and instinctively, Harry stepped in quickly to catch it. His eyes darted up from the box and just as he’d thought, there was Louis.

“Look who it is,” Louis said, reaching for the box in Harry’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Harry said and began to walk past him. He was getting pretty good at ignoring Louis, though it helped that he was always around Liam now. Ignoring him however didn’t mean he wasn’t on Harry’s mind.

In school, Harry still found opportunities to stare at Louis without being caught. And he paid special attention whenever students nearby spoke of him. Just from eavesdropping—which he wasn’t proud of, really—Harry learned that Louis and Zayn were step-brothers or had been before Zayn’s dad left the family. Mr Malik’s disappearance had forced Louis and his family, including Zayn and his sisters to move back to Doncaster where Louis had grown up. Currently all ten of them were living (or surviving) in Louis’ grandparents’ home while Louis’ mother worked fifteen-hour shifts as a nurse. Eavesdropping, at least in this case, had proven useful. He knew an abundance of things about Louis without ever having to talk to him.

Harry was trying to play it cool, slipping past Louis and getting on with his mum’s grocery list. But he was never cool, not even in pretend. He barely touched the display of grapefruits before six of them toppled and rolled in disarray about the floor.

Louis snorted, leaning down and scooping one up. “That’s what you get for ignoring me.”

Harry sighed, placing his basket on the floor and began chasing the rebel fruit.

Louis didn’t say anything else, retrieving grapefruits and balancing them in his arms as he returned them to the rest of their pack.

“Thanks,” Harry said when he was sure they were all recovered.

“No problem. Despite what you might think, I’m actually a nice person,” Louis said, picking up his own shopping basket.

“I never thought you weren’t,” Harry said.

“Got a funny way of showing it,” Louis replied. “Anyway, I just thought I should clarify. I’m nothing like Liam and his boys.”

“I don’t think you are. I’m sorry-- If I made you think I did, I didn’t mean to,” Harry said.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Well, what did you expect me to think? If you just don’t talk to me?”

Harry exhaled. “You just— you shouldn’t concern yourself with me.”

“Who says I’m concerned?” Louis said defensively. Harry had no idea how to keep up with this conversation. “I’ve got better things to think about anyway. Today happens to be my birthday.”

“Really?” Harry said. He paused. “What are you doing at Tesco by yourself?”

“Grocery shopping,” Louis said, waving the pancake box in his hand. “Same as you.”

“Do you normally shop for pancake mix on your birthday?” Harry wondered.

“Lots of questions you have, huh?” Louis said.

“My mum says curiosity keeps the cat informed and one step ahead of everyone else,” Harry said.

“Does she really?” Louis sounded horrified.

“Really she does,” Harry replied, the left side of his mouth just beginning to curl with a smile. “Why are you here on your own?”

“Zayn’s home with our sisters,” Louis said. “Entertaining the youngest ones while trying to somehow wrap presents. If you think about it, I got the better deal just running out for groceries, y’know?”

“But what are you doing for your birthday?” Harry pressed.

“Wrapping Christmas presents? Putting the girls to sleep? Dunno, really,” Louis said.

Harry frowned. He shifted the handle of the shopping basket in his hands idly. Finally he said, “How many things do you have to buy?”

Louis lifted the pancake mix again. “This and some eggs. You?”

Harry extracted his list from his pocket and handed it to Louis.

“Baking soda’s this way,” Louis said pointing ahead of him. Harry knew that already. He hadn’t been asking for help. Louis started walking anyway, clutching Harry’s list.

Harry almost stopped him. But then he thought about the likelihood of this happening again. In school, he would have to go back to avoiding Louis. But right now on Christmas Eve in Tesco, Harry deserved to enjoy this moment. He'd call it an early Christmas present.

He allowed Louis to lead him to the baking soda and then to everything else on the list. They grabbed the eggs on the way. Then they were in the queue, placing items on the conveyor belt for purchase.

“So are you headed back home after this?” Louis asked.

“I kind of have to. Have the milk and all,” Harry said.

“Right,” Louis said, nodding.

Harry hesitated a moment. “You?” he asked finally.

“Same. Feel kind of bad leaving Zayn all alone.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something and then the cashier announced his total and waited for payment. He shouldn’t have gone first. When he was finished, he stood there awkwardly with his paper bag in his arms. It wasn’t like Louis had asked him to wait. But it would’ve been rude to leave. (And he didn't want to.)

The smile on Louis’ face when he saw that Harry was waiting for him was worth it. “You didn’t have to wait,” he said, walking over to Harry with his small paper bag.

Harry shrugged one shoulder. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“What about the milk?” Louis said.

Harry held the door open for Louis as they left. “It’s just milk,” he said.

Louis’ lips twitched.

“Well, I’m this way,” he said, sticking his thumb in the opposite direction Harry had come.

“You’ll be alright getting home?” Harry asked.

Louis gave him a funny look. “Oh God, are you going alpha on me? You think omegas can’t get home on their own?”

If Harry’s cheeks went red, he’d say it was from the cold. “That’s- I didn’t mean- there are all sorts of people just like lurking out there,” he said finally with a huff. “You could get hurt, which would be especially awful since it’s your birthday.”

Louis smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re right. That  _ would _ be awful.”

Harry rolled his eyes. Because clearly Louis was teasing him. “You never know what could happen.”

“Thanks for being concerned,” Louis said. “Turns out you're not such a bad alpha after all.”

Thank God it was cold out. How else would he be able to explain his entire face flushing the way it did?

“I really do have to get home now,” Louis said, taking a step back.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to walk you?” Harry asked.

Louis cast a glance down at his feet. “I might've lied earlier, about Zayn just being with the girls. He’s actually got Liam over for a visit. Mum wanted to meet him. And I was happy to go grocery shopping to get away from them.”

“Oh,” Harry said, feeling sick. He shifted the paper bag in his arms.

“You could still come if you wanted,” Louis said. “Obviously.”

“No,” Harry said quickly. “That’s okay. My mum’s probably wondering where I am.”

Louis nodded. “Yeah, mine too,” he said. The wind picked up just then, blowing fallen snow all around them. Louis turned away from it, curling in on himself. And Harry, despite having a big paper bag in his arms, had to resist the urge to step closer and curl in on Louis too. They were both only fifteen years old. Harry wasn’t much bigger than Louis and maybe only a bit stronger. But he wanted to protect him in that moment. From the cold and everything else.

When Louis looked at Harry, his eyes were moist from the cold wind beating against them. But it almost seemed like he could have been crying. “I’m sorry about Liam,” Louis said suddenly. “I get it, why we can’t be friends now. But maybe sometime in the future.”

“You shouldn’t be friends with alphas remember? They’re dangerous,” Harry said stupidly.

“You’re not dangerous at all,” Louis said without hesitation. “You're good.”

Harry would- He would never, ever, forget how he felt right then, on this particular night in the winter of 2014, when Louis looked just as soft and beautiful as the snowflakes falling around them and smiled this smile that made everything — all that had happened, was happening, would happen — right and perfect.

For a fifteen-year-old still trying to understand who and what he was, things like the future and love shouldn’t have made any sense to Harry. But in that moment, they did. Harry saw the future somehow unfold in Louis’ smile, a million promises unfolding between him and this boy he’d only met weeks ago.

None of it should make sense, but it was the only thing that did.

“I have to go,” Louis said, taking another step back. “Just remember what I said.”

Harry nodded. “I will. Louis,” he said and Louis paused, looking at him, his breath pluming in the air. “Happy Birthday."

“Thanks. I think it is,” Louis said with a small smile. He began to turn away. “Bye Harry.”

“Bye,” Harry said. And then he turned away and started home, glancing back every five steps to make sure no one had stolen Louis. Eventually he could no longer see him. Not until later when he closed his eyes...and dreamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that album though? Looks like I survived the leak. Or I'm already dead and none of this is happening... Who knows?
> 
> But the album is glorious. No Control, Girl Almighty, Stockholm Syndrome, 18, Clouds!!! I love them all.
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading! =)


	4. Chapter 4

**7 September 2017**

“Look at me and swear you won’t write his paper for him.”

Harry’s hands stilled where they’d previously been tugging his shoelaces tight. He looked up at Niall, his answer implicit in the frown he wore.

“This is ridiculous,” Niall said, throwing his hands in the air. “Fucking ridiculous. This has to stop.”

“I’ve done it a million times,” Harry said. “It’s not a big deal. Gets him off my back for a while.”

“That was  _ last _ term,” Niall objected. “It’s the first fucking week and he’s already at his shit again. You keep talking about how each year you’re going to do things differently, yeah? So how are you going to start this one? Writing a paper for Liam or standing up for yourself?”

“It’s not that simple,” Harry said. He released a bit of frustration on his shoelaces, pulling them too tight until they were close to snapping.

“Like hell it isn’t,” Niall said. He paced the locker room, looking like he was twenty seconds away from taking a swing at anything nearby. Which wasn’t good for Harry on the wooden bench just beside him. Harry eyed him cautiously.

Niall wasn’t a target of Liam’s cruelty the way Harry was. Partly because Niall was charismatic and made everyone like him, even just a little bit. Mostly though it was due to his brother, Greg, who was in a local university now but had a strong circle of influence that remained in his absence.

Outside of school, when Harry was with Niall, no one messed with either of them, lest Greg’s betas happened to be lurking nearby. Liam never bothered Harry when he was with Niall, in school or out.

And that was the one thing Harry was always jealous of Niall for. (Gemma was great and all, but having an older sister wasn’t very helpful with his particular experience in academia.) Niall was gentle like Harry but he had the liberty to be that way. Because he had an older brother who defended him.

Except Niall was a little aggressive at the moment, and it wasn’t like him, and Harry felt entirely to blame. He stood up and gave Niall a small tentative smile.

“Don’t smile at me. You’ll make me feel bad for being angry with you,” Niall said.

“You have a right to be angry, I guess,” Harry said, nibbling on his bottom lip. “I know you don’t understand. But I just- I’m still trying to figure out a way to deal with him. I have to do it right.”

Niall narrowed his eyes. And Harry chose then to turn away from him and start towards the door to the football field. Because as usual, Niall was reading Harry like an instruction manual, all of Harry’s thoughts and intents plain to see.

“You make every bloody thing about him,” Niall said.

Harry sighed. “I do not.”

But he thought often about standing up for himself and getting his arse handed to him in front of Louis. He’d never be able to look him in the eye again. 

“I spoke to him today,” Niall said.

Harry paused with his hand on the swinging door. “Where?”

“In class,” Niall said. “He asked to borrow a pencil as usual. Swear he’s never prepared.”

Harry made a face. “That’s not very interesting.”

“And then, he asked me if you were okay,” Niall continued. “‘Cos you know, this morning Liam was being a dick about the paper.”

Harry felt his face warming and he turned away again, pushing the door open, and together he and Niall stepped out into the sun and onto the pitch. They were always the first ones to practice and they took the time warming up and stretching while they waited for everyone else to show up.

They’d been practising kicks for about ten minutes before the rest of their team began trickling out of the locker room, clad in their jerseys and shorts. Harry shot periodic glances at the door. He couldn’t help it. Really, he tried.

Zayn and Louis were always late to practice. Maybe it was just a thing cool people felt they had to do. But Harry’s guess was that the two boys were genuinely physically and mentally incapable of showing up anywhere on time. They were late on exam days and game days. They were late for lunch. Harry had separate classes with both Louis and Zayn last year. Zayn always arrived late for geography. Louis was always late for maths. Harry assumed Zayn’s tardiness had to do with Liam, but that obviously wasn’t an excuse for Louis.

Because Louis definitely didn’t have a boyfriend.

Harry would rather die.

Even  _ thinking _ about Louis dating someone actually made the tuna sandwich he’d eaten for lunch do somersaults in his stomach. 

Coach Winston stood on the pitch, swinging his eyes across the boys, his brow sinking deeper and deeper into a crease when he realized he was two boys short. And just then, the locker room door swung open and out stepped Zayn and Louis clad in their football kits.

“Tomlinson. Malik. You’re late,” Coach Winston yelled like clockwork.

“Sorry,” Louis said, throwing his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“If you’re sorry, get your arses on the field.” Swearing was meant to make Coach look less lenient than everyone knew he was. He always went easy on Louis and Zayn, his greatest players by far. Louis and Zayn broke into a sprint toward the centre of the pitch, and Harry and perhaps everyone else watched them. It was impossible not to. Everyone either wanted to be them or be  _ with _ them. Everyone at school, really. Everyone who existed within the school’s long-standing hierarchy.

At the very top, there was Liam and Zayn and their soulless followers.

And Louis.

But Harry was intent on keeping Louis in his own individual category. Because Louis wasn’t like them. He stuck with Liam’s pack out of obligation or convenience, not because he really wanted to.

Anyway, the three of them comprised a putative aristocracy that no one dared to challenge, and it was fitting for Louis with the way he glowed in the sunlight. He looked like royalty.

At the second tier of the hierarchy, there was the average student, those who weren’t on any end of the spectrum of popularity. They simply subsisted, taking up space but never being acknowledged for the space they consumed. Some of them liked it that way. Some were trying hard to change it.

Within this sphere, there were alphas, betas, and omegas alike, though the omegas tended to be more secretive about their sex than people like Louis and Zayn. Omegas who weren’t popular weren’t afforded the same protection that Louis and Zayn were. If no other good came from Louis’ association with Liam and his gang, at least he was always safe.

After all, Harry was in no position to protect him.

Not from where he existed in the hierarchy. Along with Niall (though again, the poor lad could do better if he got himself away from Harry) and a few other dorky do-gooders, Harry occupied the very bottom of the food chain. If Liam and Zayn and Louis were abundant in popularity, Harry was completely devoid of it. In fact, at this point in his school career, he was pretty sure he’d somehow acquired negative popularity. He had fallen so far down the social ladder, it was out of reach. And he was fine remaining there. Not trying to get himself out of the hole he’d dug. Not attempting to resurface.

Because if Harry was honest, popularity, at least the kind Liam had attained, didn’t look all that great. Convenient and useful, yes. But not great. Not like Liam would have everyone believe.

He hadn’t fooled Harry.

“Alright, pair up,” Coach Winton shouted. “Twenty-minute drills.”

Harry and Niall teamed up as usual, kicking the ball back and forth between one another while running left and right. They practised dribbling and guarding.

Harry’s gaze drifted to the other side of the pitch often. Louis was passing a ball between his feet in a manner that should have been impossible given the speed and agility with which he moved. All the while, he was gesturing somewhat wildly and animatedly, wiggling his fingers in the air, and Zayn was laughing. Harry had no idea what kind of story Louis was telling but he watched him anyway, in the furtive way he’d learned to do.

Football with Louis was the worse. Sweaty Louis was the worse. Sweaty, panting Louis whose scent got fucking everywhere and found Harry no matter where he was on the pitch — the absolute fucking worst.

Louis dissolved into giggles and Harry forgot about the ball Niall was kicking to him and watched.

“Jesus, Harry. He can see you, you know,” Niall said as he passed him, retrieving the ball that had rolled by him in his stupor.

Harry tore his eyes away. “Huh?”

Niall just shook his head and brought the ball back. Then he released a big, loud sigh. “Look, Haz,” he said. “I’ve something I need to tell you, mate.”

Harry raised his brows. “Okay…” he said slowly.

Niall glanced over at Louis. Which Harry didn’t miss. And his stomach lurched.

“What is it?” Harry pressed.

Coach Winston blew his whistle again. But Harry kept his eyes on Niall.

“Niall,” he said.

“Line up, lads,” Coach called. He started clapping his hands. “Hustle. Pick up your feet, Kershaw. Horan, Styles, your chat more important than this team, boys?”

Niall looked apologetic, shrugging his shoulders. “Tell ya later. Come on.”

And so they ran to join the rest of their team.

Later, after practice, after Harry successfully avoided Liam who came to walk Zayn home, he completely expected Niall to find time to tell him whatever it was he’d wanted to say. But Greg was waiting in the car park because they were going to Nando’s right after school and Harry would have gone along but he promised his mum he’d come straight home to join her for book club.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, mate. I promise,” Niall said as he slung his rucksack over his shoulder and took off, leaving Harry to walk home alone.

He’d gotten as far as the end of the car park when he realized he’d left his textbook for maths and they definitely had that quiz at the end of the week he needed to start studying for. He couldn’t afford to get anything less than a perfect score. ”A’s pave ways to brighter days.” His mum made that one up. Not him.

So he headed back into the school building, a few students still trickling out and heading home. He walked the corridor to his locker, which sat near the front doors, at the corner of another long corridor, which led to classrooms.

He was spinning the combination lock when he heard the voices. Or one voice in particular. The other voice could have been anyone and Harry wouldn’t have given a fuck one way or another. The only one that mattered was the higher-pitched, Doncaster twang. His fingers stilled on the lock and he tilted his head back just past the brick wall beside his locker so he could peer around the corner.

And there he was. Still dressed in his practice kit, Louis stood against a row of lockers, none of which were his. Harry was absolutely positive Louis’ locker number was 450, as in, on the other side of the building.

He wasn’t alone. Just in front of him, close enough that Louis had to look up at him, was another boy. An alpha, for sure. Harry was better at detecting that out than he’d been at fifteen.

He hadn’t ever seen Louis with this boy before. He hadn’t ever seen Louis with any boy before, not alone, not like this. And the boy being an alpha made a world of difference. They were too close to each other. Far too close.

And Louis was smiling.

Harry was going to throw up. Seriously. Fuck that tuna sandwich. He wouldn't keep it down if he had to watch this for much longer. At that second, his mobile chimed loudly from where he was squeezing it in his left hand. Probably a text from his mum asking where he was. She was the true MVP.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly the intervention Harry had been praying for, but it worked. It got Louis to look away from the boy and dart his eyes over to Harry. And for a moment, they just looked at each other.

The alpha who’d been speaking to him, unaware and uncaring of Harry’s presence, reached out and settled a hand on Louis’ waist.

Louis tore his gaze away from Harry. “Stop,” he said quietly, pushing off the locker. Harry didn’t hear the alpha’s response. He chose then to move away from the corner and from his own locker. All he wanted was to get home. Fuck the textbook.

And Louis—

(Harry would feel guilty for thinking it later, but not yet.)

— Fuck him too.


	5. Chapter 5

**8 September 2017**

“Come on, love. Get up. You’ll be late for school.”

Harry pushed his face further under his pillow, trying to chase his dream as it slipped through incorporeal fingers.

He’d been having such a good dream. It involved a football game. One where Harry didn’t suck at playing. Mastered it even. He scored the winning shot and everyone he’d ever known was in the stands, going wild. But no one else mattered except for Louis, running over to him, cheeks flushed with joy, before he threw his arms around his neck. He was yelling, “You’re fucking amazing, Harry.”

The world outside of the reverie was not so bright. And Harry wanted nothing to do with it.

“Harry,” his mum said tiredly but a bit firmer. Harry felt her sit down on the edge of the bed and give his shoulder a shake. “I know you’re awake.”

“I don’t want to go to school,” Harry mumbled. “Not today.”

His mum was quiet for a moment. Harry felt her fingers begin sifting through his curls, brushing them away from his forehead. “What’s the matter?”

“I feel poorly,” Harry said. Kind of true.

“You haven’t got a fever,” she said. “It’s only the second week of school. Don’t you want perfect attendance?”

“I don’t care about perfect attendance. Please can I just stay home?” Harry said.

His mum was quiet again, petting his head gently. Finally she said, “Just for today then.”

For two seconds, Harry was relieved and extremely grateful to his mum. Then he groaned, pushing himself upright.

“I’ve a test today.”

His mum looked surprised. “A test so soon after holiday? That’s a cruel teacher you have.”

“It’s on our summer reading. I’m probably the only one who did it,” Harry said.

His mum ruffled his hair. “Good boy. Of course you did,” she said. “Now are you going to tell me what’s the matter?”

“Just really tired from our first day of practice is all.” Also kind of true. Harry wasn’t interested in whole truths this morning.

“You should have told me. Wouldn’t have forced you to book club with me,” she said apologetically.

Harry shook his head, sending her a small smile. “I like your book club.”

She returned his smile. Then she patted his leg and stood. “To school it is then?”

Harry sighed. “To school it is.”

So he climbed out of bed and brushed his teeth in the bathroom he shared with Gemma. He got dressed in his khaki trousers and white oxford shirt, let his mum tie his striped tie the way she did every morning, devoured a bowl of soggy cereal, and left for school.

About two minutes into his walk, he stopped outside of Niall’s house, leaning against the large oak tree that stood across from his front yard. The door opened two seconds later and Niall came bounding down the steps, a piece of toast clamped between his lips as he finished pulling his rucksack on.

Niall came to a stop in front of him, eyes squinted. “You kinda look like shit, H.”

“Thanks for that, Niall,” Harry said flatly, turning away. “I feel like it too.”

“What happened?” Niall asked as they started walking. 

Harry shook his head. “I’ll tell you after you tell me your thing.”

“Right,” Niall said looking hesitant. He took a huge bite of his toast, chewing slower than he normally would if he weren’t blatantly stalling.

Harry glared at him. “It’s about Louis, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Niall said. “Not good news.”

“It never is,” Harry said dismissively.

Niall huffed. “Okay. The other day I went with my brother to this pool party. Would’ve invited you but I didn’t even want to go myself. My bro practically dragged me, said it was like important for me to build a rep with the blokes that were there. It was stupid, really. Liam was there and a bunch of other alpha pricks.”

“You got on alright?” Harry asked. He didn’t like the idea of Greg trying to initiate his brother in whatever weird alpha coalition he was apart of. He didn’t like the idea of Niall hanging out with people like Liam, even for a little while.

“Yeah, yeah, the food was good so I was fine. But I was standing with my brother talking to these two other alphas: one called Cory or something, and his younger brother called Ralph. Ralph goes to school with us. He’s kind of close with Liam. Not too close though cus you know Liam hates when other alphas get too close to Zayn. Fucking arsehole. Anyway, Ralph starts talking about Louis.”

Harry’s stomach did that swooping thing, the one you get when you’re flying down a roller coaster. Except there were no amusement parks around and Harry was far from amused. “Okay…” he said.

Niall sighed. “Just keep in mind, this bloke’s a real arse too, alright? They all are. And I wouldn’t take any of the shit they say seriously.”

“What did he say?” Harry urged.

Niall sighed again. “So he starts going on about Louis and how Liam had been trying to hook them up all summer. And then things started going well. So my brother’s kind of surprised ‘cause everyone knows Louis just doesn’t date anyone. And so Greg goes, ‘Louis Tomlinson?’ and Ralph says ‘Yeah’ and my brother asks ‘You mate him yet?’”

Harry took a deep breath.

“And Ralph says ‘yeah,’”

Harry stopped walking. Not consciously. More like he thought he’d still been walking and hadn’t realized he stopped until Niall turned and looked at him, a deep frown on his face.

“You alright?” Niall asked.

Harry was definitely not alright. He was just frozen there. Not really moving. Not breathing. It looked as if he had died on the spot, the first signs of rigor mortis setting in.

“He’s probably lying, man,” Niall said. “He seemed like a liar. Something about his face I didn’t trust.”

“Louis was with someone,” Harry said. “Yesterday. I saw him.”

“So you saw him with someone? Doesn’t mean they’re mated,” Niall said.

“Yeah but they could be. And if they aren’t now, maybe they will be soon,” Harry said and now he started walking again. “We’re going to be late.”

“You’re being stupid,” Niall said as he quickened his pace to keep up with Harry.

Harry scoffed. “Whatever. Can we drop it?”

And Niall did. At least until they got into the school building. Niall must've had enough of Harry walking with his head bowed like a man marching to his grave because suddenly he grabbed Harry’s shoulder and crowded him back against his locker, dropping his voice to a harsh, scathing whisper.

“Just listen to me,” Niall said before Harry could object. “I thought you were supposed to be in love with him. That’s what you said, right? But what’ve you done to show for it, mate?”

“Niall,” Harry said, voice low.

“You just stare at him and mope around about him,” Niall went on as if Harry hadn’t spoken. “And now there’s a chance he might be mating some dickhead. But you’re not even gonna do anything about it? You might think the sun shines out of his arse. But you don’t love him. This isn’t love.”

“Let me go,” Harry growled, shrugging his shoulder so Niall’s hand fell away. He took several breaths of air, glancing around at the students hustling past them.

Harry was angry. More than he ever was. At Louis for possibly being mated. At Niall for speaking the God’s honest truth. Mostly at himself for being such a coward and letting Louis slip away. He did this. It wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. And yet he was angry at everyone.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Harry said.

“Fine,” Niall said and wandered off toward his locker.

Harry went through his next three classes like a zombie. He took that stupid test on their summer reading book and aced it, he was sure. But he didn’t even care. He ate lunch with Niall and another kid called Josh who was more Niall’s friend than Harry’s. Josh clearly thought Harry was bizarre. Rightfully so, Harry supposed. While Niall and Josh chatted, Harry took uninterested bites of his banana while refusing to glance over at the table near the windows where Louis was probably seated with Zayn and Liam. And possibly Ralph whose name Harry had only heard this morning and could no longer forget.

And then he was in his last class before practice. Literature of the Elizabethan Era. Or as Harry catalogued it in his mind, The Class He Had with Louis.

Louis actually sat a few seats ahead of Harry, though typically Harry chose a seat as close to the front as he could. But their instructor, Mrs Caple, had insisted on assigning seats and — as Harry would find out that period — assigning partners.

The majority of the class went by as normal. Mrs Caple read a few lines from the Shakespearean sonnets they were covering. Mostly Harry stared down at his textbook or doodled on his hand in pen. The class flew by as quickly as the myriad of incessant thoughts flying through his head.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen,” Mrs Caple said, snapping her book of sonnets closed. “For the next few weeks, we’ll be covering Shakespeare’s plays.”

Harry was pretty sure they’d done that last year. But hey, why not force them further up the Bard’s arse? Harry was in an awful mood. Now he was even angry with Shakespeare.

Mrs Caple went on. “Before we dismiss, I’d like to assign you all with a partner with whom you’ll be performing a selection of text before the end of the term. I suggest you get friendly with this person as you’ll be seeing a lot of them. You’ll receive your first assignment next week.”

“Can we pick our own partners?” a girl (Maria, Harry thought) said from somewhere behind him.

Mrs Caple smiled. “What would be the fun in that?” she said, lifting a clipboard from her desk. “Here we go.”

And then she began calling off pairs of names. Most of the students were content with their partner. Other people grumbled to their friends. Best friends were split up. A couple too. But no one dared to challenge Mrs Caple’s decisions.

She was pretty far down the list now and though the pairs themselves seemed to be randomly chosen, they were categorized in some sort of alphabetical order.

“Louis Tomlinson,” she said.

Harry glanced up instinctively. Louis paused the conversation he’d been having with a girl next to him and tilted his head to Mrs Caple with poorly-concealed disinterest.

“And Harry Styles,” she finished.

Now Louis turned his head to face her completely. And Harry’s eyes widened before he could think to do otherwise. Louis was still staring at Mrs Caple even though she had moved on to another set of names. He was frozen and Harry too, pen halted above his skin.

For the next four minutes, it seemed like neither one of them moved, while everyone else chattered around them. And then the bell rung loudly throughout the classroom, making Louis’ shoulders jolt. Harry watched him stand, grab his textbook and leave.

Harry shuffled out of the classroom, still in half-shock. He trudged to the locker room for practice and everything else happened in a blur of normality.

Louis and Zayn were late. Coach yelled at them. Niall was still cross with Harry but teamed up with him for warm-up drills anyway. He was a good friend and Harry wasn’t sure he deserved him. Louis laughed with Zayn, but not as loudly and not as much as he had the day before. Harry made a concerted effort not to look at him. But he did at least twice. The first time, Louis had been looking at a vague point on the ground and rolling a ball back and forth idly under his foot. The second time Harry happened to look at him, Louis happened to be looking back. Only for a second though and then he turned and kicked his ball to a teammate across the field.

Harry got stuck with ball duty. While the rest of the team ran off to the locker room to either take showers or head home, he had the unfortunate task of picking up the balls they left on the field. Niall would have stayed to help but he had to get home and babysit his cousins. They didn’t talk much more than that, for which Harry was regretful. On his way to his locker, he made a promise to himself to ring Niall later. He wasn’t ready yet to do what Niall suggested. But he could at least apologize for being a stubborn arse about it.

Harry was approaching the corner where his locker stood when a pair of shoes caught his eye. Someone was sitting there in front of his locker, though all Harry could see from this angle was their legs. But that was enough to know it was Louis. The boy never wore socks during warmer months. Probably gave him anxiety just to think about. And the hems of his khaki trousers were always rolled up.

Harry walked more slowly now, a little reluctantly too. But Louis must have sensed someone approaching, or heard the soft thud of Harry’s shoes because he turned his head, peering around the corner, reminiscent of the way Harry had just yesterday when he caught Louis with Ralph.

“Took you long enough to pick up a few balls,” Louis said.

Harry made a face. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Louis asked, standing to his feet and brushing off the back of his trousers. “Waiting for you, obviously.”

Harry chewed the inside of his jaw, standing there awkwardly.

“Don’t look so terrified. I’ve just come to talk,” Louis said.

“’M not terrified,” Harry said. Terrified wasn’t really the word. What a sorry alpha Harry would be if that were the case.

“Just calling it like it is,” Louis said.

“What do you want to talk about, Louis?”

Louis hesitated a moment. “If it’s gonna be weird for you, we don’t have to be partners,” he said. “Like I’ll understand if you want to switch or something. I won’t be offended.”

He said that but he’d jammed his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders in what Harry assumed was a posture of defence.

It made him look small. There was wariness in his blue eyes as they met Harry’s. There was a small frown on his thin, pink lips. Harry wanted to hug him until his shoulders loosened. He wanted to press his face into his neck until Louis was certain of how he felt, how much he wanted to be around him.

Whatever apprehension Harry had been feeling about working with Louis melted away momentarily and he found himself shaking his head.

“It’s not weird, I promise,” Harry said. “Unless— If it’s weird for you, then I get it.”

“Nope,” Louis said, popping the p. “Don’t see why it would be.”

It wasn’t like they could switch even if they wanted to. Mrs Caple was bound to say no if they asked. But Harry didn’t want it any other way. He spent so much time avoiding Louis, trying not to make a fool of himself or attract unwanted attention from Liam. But maybe this was the universe forcing him into unprovoked and unavoidable proximity and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little grateful. 

Harry gave a small nod of his head, rocking back on his feet. “Great.”

Louis’ lips twitched like he wanted to smile or laugh but he didn’t. “We should probably exchange numbers,” he said. Harry stared at him. Louis went on. “So we can keep in touch about the assignments and all that, yeah?”

“Right,” Harry said, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Louis swiped it from his hand. Harry watched him, studied the lines of his cheekbones and the fan of dark lashes across them. He was gorgeous and Harry was mystified.

Then the moment was over. Louis tossed his fringe away from his eyes and handed the phone back. “There. I sent myself a message so I have your number too.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, pushing his phone into his pocket again.

Louis lifted his rucksack off the ground. “Just send me a text whenever you want to meet up,” he said. “Or like—” A shrug. “Even just to say hi.”

The brief shock those words struck up in Harry must have shown on his face. Because now Louis’ lips curved in a smug, lopsided smile. He turned away from Harry, throwing up his hand in a small wave, and strolled away. In the long stretch of hallway separating them, Louis left behind something that felt alarmingly like hope.


	6. Chapter 6

**13 September 2017**

Harry and Louis were assigned Romeo and Juliet.

Because of fucking course.

Never mind the immense hatred Harry held for that particular play. Of all the works they could have been assigned—at this point, King fucking Lear would have been a better option—they were stuck with the star-crossed lovers of Verona.

What if the scene they had to act out at the end of the term was some tear-jerking, soul-mate-yearning, angsty piece of drivel? What if Harry had to be Romeo (or Juliet even, dear God) and confess his love for Louis?

It didn’t matter that he’d be playing a role. There was no part of him that could successfully look Louis in the eye and tell him he loved him without making it blatantly obvious how real and true those words were. Honestly, he might as well just tell him how he felt now.

Harry expressed his fears to Niall later that afternoon and all he did was laugh, very loudly until his cheeks flushed red and his shoulders trembled.

“I love it,” he’d said, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

Harry stopped talking to him then. He made a mental note too to be more selective about fears he expressed to Niall in the future.

The only thing Harry could be grateful for was that practising scenes wasn’t necessary for at least another month. For their first assignment, they simply had to read their appointed play to prepare for the quiz they would have on it the following week.

And Harry was grateful for the quiz for more reasons than one. Because it gave him an opportunity to study with Louis. And he hadn’t even been the one to suggest it.

“We should probably study for that quiz or something,” Louis had said randomly and with an ease Harry envied. They were at practice and Harry had been refilling his water bottle inside the locker room when Louis had come in, a towel draped around his neck. He’d said it, propped his hands on his hips, and waited for Harry’s response.

“Uh, yeah, sure. We can do that,” Harry said.

Louis nodded. “Cool.”

And then he left.

Harry had stared after him, long after the door to the field closed behind him. He stared so long that cold water filled to the brim of his bottle and flowed over onto his hand.

This boy would be the death of him.

That brought them to the public library Wednesday afternoon with their notebooks and the Complete Pelican Shakespeare set before them.

Harry watched Louis deftly tapping out a text message. When he finished, he placed his phone face down on the hard wood table. Harry wouldn’t think about what that meant. Nor would he let himself believe Louis was texting Ralph. He also wouldn’t imagine Louis sending him cute things like heart emojis or “xoxo” or—

He was not thinking about it.

“Should we get started?” Louis asked.

“Ready when you are,” Harry said. It sounded more bitter than he’d meant for it too. Louis could have been texting his mum for all Harry knew. Not sending heart emojis or xo’s or— 

Fuck.

“Did you read it like we were supposed to?” Harry asked.

“Nope,” Louis said without a hint of shame. “Don’t know why I would when we’ve all read it before. Read it just a year ago in fact. Around your birthday, remember?” At this, his eyes flickered to Harry’s but only for a second, not long enough for Harry to catch the expression there.

But how could Harry forget February 2015?

They had, in fact, read Romeo and Juliet at the start of the New Year. And little did Harry know back then, the play would be the thing that set all things in motion. The play and what it inspired would trigger events that triggered other events that ultimately led Harry to realize the now long-standing love he’d held for Louis.

But he refused to think about that too.

“You could’ve forgotten things since then. Like the obscure bits of the story. Like what’s the name of the woman Romeo was in love with before Juliet?” Harry said.

Louis opened his mouth to answer, paused, and then frowned. “Mary?”

“Rosaline,” Harry said flatly.

Louis shrugged. “Good thing I have you as a partner, innit?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“If you insist, I’ll read it tonight. But I came here for a study session and I expect to have one,” Louis said, opening his book. “So where should we start first?”

Annoyed and perhaps a little endeared, Harry flipped his book open with a heavy sigh. “From the beginning.”

+

**1 February 2015**

Harry didn’t like birthdays. Other people’s birthdays were just fine, he supposed. But he didn’t care very much for his own.

He’d spent the majority of them in school where Liam displayed exactly zero respect for Harry-centric events. Not that his birthday was an “event” in the first place. Aside from his family and good ole faithful Niall, hardly anyone knew it was his birthday and those who knew never remembered.

Things usually looked better once the school day was over. There would be a cake, his favourites for dinner, and a few presents waiting for him at home. This year, he hoped to get the camera he’d been asking for since June. It hadn’t been under the tree on Christmas but he hoped his mum had saved it for his birthday. It was potentially in his house right now. Just waiting for him. All he needed to do was make it through the next five hours. 

But Ms Nixon had chosen that day of all days for them to read the poems they’d been working for the past two weeks. She chose only a few people to go on each day. Harry just happened to be picked to read on his birthday.

It wasn’t like his poem was bad. He’d spent more time working on it than probably anyone else. He’d exhausted all possible versions and combinations of the same sixteen lines. Gemma had read it and being that she composed actual songs in her spare time, when she said it was “a good piece of work,” he believed her.

But that didn’t mean he felt at all prepared to read it in front of the whole class.

Especially not in front of Louis.

“Write a poem from the perspective of a star-crossed lover,” Ms Nixon had said two weeks ago. And at first, Harry spent the following days bent over a piece of notebook paper—the same one he would discard and replace with a new piece over and over—trying to collect thoughts that might translate into tangible words. And he came up with nothing.

In his defence, he’d been thinking rather methodically. The poetry assignment had been inspired by Romeo and Juliet, the star-crossed lovers to end all — really, they were just two impatient teenagers with an unhealthy amount of affection for one another and a penchant for hysterics, but that was neither here nor there — and Harry didn’t know how he was supposed to write from the perspective of either one of them.

And then the answer came flying at him or falling from the stars themselves.

He wasn’t supposed to write as Romeo or Juliet. And he didn’t have to. Because he was a star-crossed lover himself.

He and Louis were star-crossed and then some. Constellation-crossed maybe. Whole galaxies were in disarray because of his love for Louis.

Then the poem came easily to him. Because he wrote it for Louis.

Maybe that had been his mistake.

“Alright, Harry. You’re up,” Ms Nixon said from where she was perched on the edge of her desk like the carefree bird she was.

Harry found comfort in the out-of-body experience he had then. He felt himself stand, grab the poem he’d typed up off his desk, and walk to the front of the class. (Yes, Ms Nixon made them stand at the front because she was fucking crazy.) It wasn’t so bad when he felt like he was no longer in control of his body.

Before he knew it, he was at the front of the classroom. He felt his hands straighten the paper. He felt his lungs draw in a breath.

“Don’t forget the title,” Ms Nixon said.

Harry glanced at her. “I don’t actually have one.”

Ms Nixon shrugged her shoulder. She really didn’t give a fuck. She was here for the art, no matter what form it came in.

Another breath and then he began.

_ “To Future You from Future Me, _

_ I hope you know I’ve always seen _

_ constellations in your eyes. _

_ I hope you know that in the past _

_ there was too much to say, _

_ way too much to understand, _

_ and way too little time. _

_ And every day kept passing by _

_ till Past Me and You _

_ were just some dreams I’d had _

_ of a long gone passerby.” _

Harry paused, shooting a glance up at his classmates. And he hadn’t meant to—truly, he hadn’t—but his eyes caught on Louis for a second that seemed to stretch on for hours.

There was a small, private smile on Louis’ pink lips and the faintest rosy tint to his cheeks. No one else would notice except for Harry, which was fine, he thought, because it seemed to be meant for him.

_ “From the heart of Future Me _

_ I wrote this poem _

_ with your future heart in mind.” _

Harry lowered the paper, though he hadn’t been looking at it in the first place. He broke his gaze away from Louis and looked again to Ms Nixon.

“That’s it,” Harry said awkwardly.

Ms Nixon began to clap, nodding at the class to do the same.

“Beautiful, Harry. Just beautiful,” Ms Nixon said.

“Thank you,” Harry said. He went back to his seat by the window. He didn’t dare to look at Louis again because whatever bravado had propelled him to do so in the first place expired once he was no longer spewing poetry. He sat down, tucking the paper back into his notebook.

“I think it sounded shit, to be honest.”

Harry tensed up at the sound of Liam’s voice, squeezing his fists along the sides of his trousers. He’d almost forgotten he was even in the class. His jaw locked and he focused his eyes ahead where Ms Nixon had begun to discuss something else.

“My old man saw constellations in someone’s eyes before and he happened to be drunk. What’s your excuse, Harold?” Liam said.

Harry ignored him and the snicker of Liam’s two betas at the desks nearby. That wasn’t even funny. But then again, Liam was never funny.

“That’s it. You must have been drunk while you were writing that whole poem. ‘Cause it really is shit, mate. I have to say. Just shit.”

“Where’s your poem, Liam?”

Harry’s head snapped around to Louis, his eyes rounding. Louis wasn’t looking at Harry. He had his chin resting in his palm, watching Liam expectantly. He seemed to genuinely want an answer to his question.

The two betas quieted down. Liam too. Even the girls behind Harry who’d been having their own conversation stopped and listened.

“Didn’t write one, did you?” Louis went on.

“Watch it, Tomlinson,” one of Liam’s congested-sounding betas snarled.

Louis shrugged his shoulder. “Just asking the important questions, boys. I should think a poem critic would have written a few poems himself, don’t you?”

Liam’s eyes narrowed into slits the way they always did before he hit Harry. And that just wasn’t on.

Harry wasn’t a good fighter though he hadn’t yet figured out why that was. Being an alpha was supposed to be a guarantee of good-fighting skills, among other things Harry was without. Something must have gone wrong when his alpha capabilities were being computed. Something as in they just weren’t computed at all.

Nonetheless, if Liam hit Louis, for the second time in his life, Harry would start the fight that ensued. He would lose for sure with Liam’s two betas ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, but it didn’t matter. Harry was already sliding his chair back a little, getting himself ready.

And then the bell rang.

Liam stood up, still without offering any kind of response, which in a way was more intimidating than hearing him mouthing off insults.

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble, Tomlinson,” one of the betas, Richard, said as he passed Louis’ desk. He then shoved Louis’ notebook on the floor as an afterthought.

Louis snorted as they left the classroom. He leaned down to grab his notebook, not realizing that Harry was already reaching out to grab it.

“Thanks,” Louis said.

“You shouldn’t do that. You shouldn’t push him,” Harry said. “I can take care of myself.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I’ve heard the poems Liam’s written to Zayn and they’re actually shit,” Louis said, standing. “Wouldn’t be fair to let him pretend otherwise.”

Louis’ lips curved in a small, half-hearted smile that was nothing like the one he’d worn as Harry read his poem. This smile simply meant goodbye and then he turned and left the classroom.

For the rest of the afternoon, Harry expected Liam to be waiting around a corner for him, seeking revenge. But by the end of the school day there were no other Liam-involved incidents to report. Instead, as he was heading to his locker to grab his things and meet up with Niall, Harry was greeted with a different sort of surprise. A pleasant one, in fact. 

“Took you long enough,” Louis said when Harry found him at his locker. 

"Sorry," Harry said.

Louis leaned off of the lockers. “Here.”

Harry frowned at the brown paper bag Louis held out to him.

“It’s for you,” Louis said. When Harry continued looking at it confusedly, Louis huffed. “Would you take the bloody bag?”

Harry finally did. “Thank you?”

“Don’t open it,” Louis blurted when Harry had begun to do just that. Harry’s hands stilled. Louis exhaled, calming himself. “When I leave. Open it then.”

“Um, okay,” Harry said.

“Okay,” Louis echoed, adjusting the strap of his rucksack. “Well, I have to go. See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Harry said, mystified.

Louis shot him another smile and then he walked past him, back down the hallway. Harry watched him leave. He waited till he was no longer in sight and then his gaze dropped to the brown paper bag in his hand.

Harry unfolded the top of it, which looked like it had previously been stapled and then torn open. He didn’t know what to make of that. But he peered inside the bag, trusting that Louis hadn’t rigged it to explode or do something equally destructive.

The first thing Harry spotted was a white note card. Beneath it was a bag of what looked to be frosted biscuits. His heart stuttered in his chest and he reached with eager fingers for the note card. He reluctantly tore his eyes away from the baked goods — because Louis’ hands might have been instrumental in crafting them, holy fuck — and settled his eyes on the card, which turned out to be even better.

In Louis’ neatest scrawl, it read:

_ Thanks for shopping with me and offering to walk me home on Louis Day a.k.a. Christmas Eve. This is me returning the favour… _

_ My sisters and I baked these biscuits last night. They did the baking part really but I decorated all the biscuits in this bag. Did a fantastic job, too. _

_ Anyway… _

_ Happy Birthday, Harry. _

_ -Louis Tomlinson _

It was a good thing Harry was alone. Most people in school thought him weak enough without witnessing the way he slumped against his locker just then, dimples prominent in his smiling face.

The very last part of Louis’ note, beneath his ornate signature, looked to have been written only recently. It wasn’t in the black ink Louis had used to carefully print the majority of the note. This last part was in a purple pen and written in a hurry. Harry read it four times and later he would read it twenty more…

_ P.S. I really liked your poem. xx _


	7. Chapter 7

**13 September 2017**

**8:55 pm:** _‘Kind of fucked up what happened to Rosaline. Not sure I like this story anymore.’_

**8:56 pm:** ‘It’s a shit story to begin with. what do you mean?’

**9:00 pm:** ‘ _ Romeo just got tired of her. The next girl came along and forgot all about her. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do the same thing with J?’ _

**9:01 pm:** ‘the way he felt about Juliet was different. What he had with Rosaline was superficial. Then he met Juliet and realised what true love was.’

**9:02 pm:** _‘He only fell in love with J after talking to her once. How’d he realize what true love was after one little chat?’_

**9:04 pm:** ‘I think it was love at first sight.’

**9:10 pm:** _‘Do you believe in that?’_

**9:15 pm:** ‘Not really. I think you have to know a person a little to love them. But that’s not what happened for Romeo and Juliet.’

**10:02 pm:** _‘I still think it’s sad. what ever happened to poor Rose?’_

**10:05 pm:** ‘Maybe she found her soulmate too.’

**10:06 pm:** ‘do you believe in love at first sight?’

+

**14 September 2017**

Harry fell asleep waiting on a response from Louis. In the morning, when there was still no reply, he was glad he did. If he wasn’t so tired from practice, he might’ve waited up all night even just for an emoji. Pathetic, yes, but Harry had sort of been pathetic since Louis rocketed into his life.

And as of late, he’d also been more than a little paranoid.

Romeo and Juliet had opened the door to discussions Harry wasn’t ready to have with Louis. Even mentioning soulmates in a literary sense felt risky. Confessing his beliefs on love seemed akin to confessing that he himself had experienced the phenomenon.

Harry could see love at first sight being real, when he first laid eyes on Louis, he at least knew ‘love’ had to be real with people like Louis inhabiting the earth. Because people like Louis  _ had _ to be loved. The inverse was an injustice.

Each time Louis sent a message provoking conversations on love, affection, and destiny, Harry waxed dangerously closer to revealing exactly how he felt about those things and how contingent they all were on Louis.

Once they’d started, the messages came often. Louis sent them first thing in the morning and last thing before bed, during school and after. And Harry wasn’t complaining at all.

He was beginning to think he’d scared him off though with his last message. Not that Louis was easy to scare. But Louis would have been up by now and there was still no reply. 

Then his phone, which was still sat on the bedside cabinet, chimed thrice in quick succession. He ran to it, foamy toothpaste dropping onto his shirt collar.

**8:04 am:** ‘what  _ a romantic you are… :P’ _

**8:04 am:** _‘i’m going to have to agree with you. You like a person, then you love them imo.’_

**8:05 am:** _ ‘it’s pouring btw. Forgot my umbrella and now I’m soaked.’ _

Harry’s smile was dopey, toothbrush jutting out of one corner of his mouth. Ignoring the image of Louis “soaked,” he typed a response.

**8:05 am:** ‘Good looking out. Make sure to dry off soon so you don’t get sick.’

Within a second, three dots appeared under his message.

**8:06 am:** _‘Will do! see you soon. :) x’_

Harry locked his phone and finished brushing his teeth with a new sense of urgency. He wanted to get to school as soon as possible. He wanted to see Louis.

He needed to change his shirt.

And find his umbrella.

+

Ralph was going to be a problem.

Seeing him around Louis didn’t get easier, although Harry hadn’t really expected it too. He’d been hopeful. Sometimes people got so accustomed to pain they stopped feeling it altogether. So that was what Harry looked forward to, feeling numb.

Whenever he glanced over at the table where Louis sat with Liam and Zayn, and a collection of betas, there would be Ralph, the boy Harry had never noticed before but saw everywhere now. Harry employed his amateur detective skills, trying to figure out what rumours and gossip failed to tell him. No one knew for sure if Louis and Ralph were actually together. Harry had to discern what he could from what he saw.

And clearly —  _ unfortunately _ — Louis actually  _ liked _ Ralph, at least a little bit. Or he was pretending to like him? Either way, Louis seemed interested, Harry was sure.

As to whether they were actually mated, Harry had no methods of figuring that out. None except asking Louis directly. And there was a greater likelihood of an apocalyptic event taking place. 

+

**15 September 2017**

It rained for two days, leaving the ground moist and sodden in time for the scrimmage. Playing on a muddy pitch meant you were 20% more likely to sprain your ankle or get a wad of mud in your eye. Neither of which helped their chances of winning.

And friendly match or not, everyone wanted to win.

The rain had reduced to a light drizzle by the time they were all warming up but they had been outside long enough that mostly everyone’s hair was damp. Including Louis, which made it incredibly hard for Harry to focus on getting into “game mode”.

On the opposing team, there was Niall and Zayn. On Harry’s team, there was Louis.

Louis rolled a ball back and forth beneath his foot, making faces that were meant to be intimidating across the pitch at Zayn.

“Ready to eat shit?” he’d asked him at one point.

Zayn discreetly flipped him off.

Louis turned back to face his team, his smile fading as he took a gander at their assortment. He didn’t look entirely confident now and Harry didn’t blame him. There were two first-years standing beside him who’d admitted on the first day of school to never having played football before. This didn’t explain how they’d made the team but there were a lot of unanswered questions floating around lately. Like why the sight of Louis’ drenched hair and soaked jersey made Harry’s vision go fuzzy? And why the rain did nothing to conceal his scent in the air?

Louis’ eyes fell on Harry and he shot him a small smile. Another question: How did he make Harry feel weaker and stronger at the same time?

When Louis smiled at him, Harry forgot he was shit at footie and even felt emboldened. He smiled back just as Coach blew his whistle to signal the start of their match.

Rain-drenched Louis was nothing compared to Muddy Louis. In all forms, Louis was the most competitive person Harry knew. He didn’t let the mud stop him. He became one with the mud. His knees got covered in it, his arms too. Some splattered on his cheek and he reached up uncaringly to brush his forearm against his cheek and push wet fringe away from his eyes. He played dirty and got dirty and didn’t give a fuck about it. And Harry- God, Harry loved it.

Despite Louis’ impressive athleticism, their team lost. Obviously.

They all shook hands like proper sportsmen. Niall clapped Harry on the back between his shoulder blades while laughing like the smug bastard he was. Louis and Zayn exchanged a begrudged hug. And then Zayn hurried off to the side of the pitch where Liam had been sitting with two other betas, watching the whole time.

Harry watched Zayn walk quickly to Liam, a wide smile on his face. Liam stood up as he approached, hands already reaching out to receive him, to wrap him in a hug and hold him close. Harry watched Liam lift his hands to cup Zayn’s face, murmuring something to him, probably “congratulations” before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to his mouth.

Harry decided to look away and he was surprised to find Louis at his side instead of Niall, his eyes flickering away from Zayn and Liam too.

“Sickening, aren’t they?” Louis said. But his voice conveyed none of the disgust his words were meant to.

“I wasn’t really- I don’t really notice,” Harry lied.

It wasn’t like he watched Zayn and Liam often. But it was hard  _ not _ to notice them. Everyone did. Everyone envied them in some way. Even Harry. Maybe especially Harry.

The bond alpha and omega formed when they mated essentially guaranteed the omega’s devotion and loyalty to the alpha for life. Some alphas took that as an incentive to treat their omegas horribly. They thought kindness and effort were no longer necessary for a relationship certified to last. Prior to Liam finding Zayn, Harry would have bet all his savings that Liam would be one of those alphas.

But he turned out to be the exact opposite. Anyone for miles could see that the devotion between Liam and Zayn ran both ways, and that they had a love well beyond their years. If Harry was jealous of anything, it'd be that.

If Harry was ever lucky enough to mate with anyone, he’d spend the rest of his life showing that person how lucky he was to have them too.

“Sorry we lost,” Harry told Louis. “But you were kind of the only good player on our team.”

Louis shrugged. “You weren’t so bad.”

“It’s okay, I know you think I play like shit,” Harry said. “I’m surprised you didn’t just say so.”

“I’ve been trying this new thing lately. I call it being nice?” Louis said with a cheeky smile.

“It’s weird. Don’t know if I like it.”

Louis laughed. “Better get used to it, Styles.”

Liam sometimes referred to Harry that way, like he either wasn’t aware or didn’t care that Harry had a first name. But when Louis said it, with an adorable smirk on his face, Harry wouldn’t mind if Louis never referred to him any other way again.

Harry began to say something but was distracted by Niall in the distance just past Louis’ head, shooting Harry a thumbs-up like an idiot. Harry’s eyes flickered back to Louis, just as he began to turn around, trying to catch sight of whatever Harry had been looking at.

“Niall and I are gonna get pizza,” Harry said quickly. “You could come along too…if you want. If not, that’s also fine.”

Louis smiled. He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched like the chill in the air was getting to him. “I’d like that,” he said. “But I have to head home and start dinner for my sisters.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said like he should’ve known that. There was no way he could have known that.

Louis’ eyes darted about his face. “Sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely disappointed.

“No, like I said, it’s fine,” Harry said. His heart was broken. “Are Zayn and Liam going with you too?”

“Nope. I think Liam’s taking Zayn out. I dunno. They’re always running off somewhere,” Louis said.

“And you get stuck with making dinner?” Harry asked.

“’S not so bad. I don’t make anything fancy. And I get it,” Louis said. “If I had someone, I’d want to spend all my time with them too.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He was just frozen there, brows furrowed in contemplation. All he could think about was Ralph.

“I have to get going,” Louis said, taking a few steps backwards. “We’ll do pizza another time.”

“Whenever you want,” Harry said.

Louis smiled again, first at Harry, then at Niall as he passed him approaching. When he was a safe distance away, Niall hissed, “You were supposed to invite him for pizza.”

“I did,” Harry shot back. “Said he has to make dinner for his sisters.”

Niall huffed. “Jesus, you have the worst luck today. No win. No pizza with Louis.”

“You always know just what to say,” Harry grumbled.

\+ 

**16 September 2017**

Generally speaking, everything Louis did was worth remembering.

But Harry had a list of dates in his journal when Louis had said or done something truly unforgettable. There was the day they first met. There was Christmas Eve of that same year at Tesco and Harry’s birthday the following year in 2015. Harry still had Louis’ note tacked to his bedroom wall. And Harry expected it to keep growing.

That Saturday afternoon, it increased by one.

He was raking leaves in the yard with his mum when his phone buzzed in his back pocket. He fished it out, not surprised, though pleased to see Louis’ name on the screen.

**3:54 pm:** _‘At the park. Come play footie with me. You could use the practice.’_

Harry couldn’t even find it in himself to be offended.

**3:55 pm: ‘** What happened to you being nice?’

**3:55 pm:** _ ‘It got boring. Come to the park!’ _

Harry looked at his mum. “Do you think we could do the rest tomorrow?”

“You have somewhere to be?” she asked.

“Kind of. ‘M sorry. I’ll do the rest tomorrow, I promise,” Harry said.

**3:57 pm:** _‘should I consider your lack of a reply a rejection?’_

**3:57 pm:** _ ‘so disappointing, Styles.’ _

“Sure, love. Don’t be home too late,” his mum said.

Harry didn’t wait.

**3:58 pm:** ‘I’m on my way.’

He tucked his phone into his pocket, gave his mum a quick kiss on her cheek and tossed his rake aside. He changed into shorts and a clean T-shirt (which was stupid because he’d get it dirty again at the park). He dressed at an embarrassingly speedy rate, like the park was on fire and he had mere seconds to save Louis from the blaze. 

He sprinted to the park, which was halfway between his house and Louis’. A few children and their parents occupied the swing set, and at least two sets of people sat over at the picnic tables. Harry hurried past them, following a dirt trail to the football pitch near the back of the park, hidden by a thick collection of cedar and pine trees.

Louis sat in the centre of the pitch, arms wrapped around his knees.

“Took you long enough,” he said loudly as soon as he spotted Harry.

Harry crossed the pitch towards him, trying to control his heavy breathing. He was out of breath, yeah, but Louis didn’t need to know it. “You know how many times you’ve said that to me?”

“Maybe you should stop making me wait all the time?” Louis suggested as he got to his feet.

“You really are done with the being nice thing, aren’t you?”

Louis cracked his first smile. He reached down to grab his ball. “It’s misleading for me to be too nice to my opponent. You’ll start to think I’ll go easy on you.” He tossed the ball to Harry. “But I  _ will _ let you start.”

He started to stroll off to a spot on the pitch, far enough away from Harry. “That’s as nice as I’ll get though. Just a warning.” Harry watched him walk away, just to make sure he got to the other side of the pitch safely. He certainly wasn’t looking at Louis’ bum. Absolutely not.

When Louis was a good distance away, he turned to face Harry. He sank down into an easy crouch, a grin on his face. “Do your worst.”

Harry smiled back, albeit a little nervously. Alpha or not, he was about to get his arse kicked.

They played for an hour and a half. When Louis had scored so many times they lost count, they started running drills instead. Louis gave Harry pointers. He showed him one of his secret moves, which he boasted no one else in the world could execute with quite the same finesse. Harry tried to retain all of the information Louis was throwing at him. But it proved difficult while he simultaneously suppressed an erection every time Louis pressed up against him, every time they tumbled over each other on the pitch, or every time Louis’ bum got too close to his crotch. It was all too much. Harry was a seventeen-year-old alpha and easily overwhelmed.

Lucky for him, Louis was eventually too tired to push him any further. They spread out on their backs in the grass, chests expanding. Louis tucked his arms under his head and they stared up at the pink sky, decorated with white clouds that looked as though they'd been painted on.

“Why not come to the park with Zayn?” Harry asked.

“He’s with Liam,” Louis said. He waited a second, then added, “And I didn’t want to play with Zayn.”

Harry thought maybe he heard the implied “I wanted to play with you.” But maybe that was wishful thinking.

“Do you have to make dinner tonight again?” Harry asked.

“Nope. Mum’s home tonight,” Louis said. “And I think the girls need a break from my cooking.”

“I’m sure it’s not so bad,” Harry offered.

Louis snorted a laugh. “I make cheese on toast and baked beans most nights. Sometimes I make boxed mac and cheese and mix in baked beans.”

Harry cringed. “Sounds delicious.”

“Fuck off,” Louis said, both of them laughing. “Mum’s making baked chicken and mash. Best meal we’ve had in days.” He sighed. “Zayn’ll probably bring Liam.”

“Does he come over often?”

“Unfortunately,” Louis said.

“Does he bother you when he does?” Harry asked. He hoped he wasn’t asking too many questions—probably, he was—but Louis didn’t seem to mind answering them.

“No. I just wish I could spend more time with Zayn sometimes. But Liam doesn’t like me any more than he likes you, honestly.”

At this, Harry turned his head to look at him. “Really?”

“Sure. I don’t like him much either," Louis said. "Not like he’s made much of a good impression. He knows I don’t like him and maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me. But he lets me stick around because he thinks Zayn would hate him otherwise. I don’t even think that’s possible. Zayn would sooner die than turn against Liam. But he’s still my brother. And I guess since they’re mated, I’m practically Liam’s brother too.”

Harry shivered. “That’s kind of terrifying.”

Louis laughed. “Just a little.”

The sky was darker now than Harry wanted it to be, a cobalt blue set ablaze where the sun was setting between a pocket of trees. Harry wanted to stay here and watch the sunset with Louis.

“I should probably go,” Louis said.

When Harry looked to his left, Louis was already getting up and dusting off his shorts. Harry stood up too, stretching his aching arms and legs.

“Thanks for coming,” Louis said.

“Thanks for teaching me. I think I’m getting better already,” Harry said.

“We can only hope."

“Hey,” Harry whined.

Louis laughed again, lifting his ball off the ground and tucking it under his arm. They walked together through the deserted park to the exit. Time had passed quickly without Harry noticing or caring. However long he’d been with Louis, still it seemed like not enough time.

They parted ways with a “see you later” because that was always guaranteed. Seeing Louis, even from a distance, was always promised.

But it was never enough.


	8. Chapter 8

**21 September 2017**

Another week passed, full of tests and quizzes, of football practice, of avoiding Liam, of seeing Louis with Ralph and then studying Shakespeare with him afterwards like all was normal and his heart wasn't splitting in two.

Harry didn’t know which was worse: avoiding Louis as he’d done for the past two years or spending so much time with him, having him close but not quite close enough.

Friday came like fresh air. It brought a winter chill that was at once unexpected and welcome. Kids withdrew coats from dusty cupboards. Louis wore a red knit muffler that made the natural blush of his cheeks and the rose of his lips more prominent.

But while he was unbearably attractive, there was something off about him. Harry could tell from the way he smiled at lunch, less often and with downcast eyes, and he made only one attempt to entertain Zayn during practice. He did seem amused by how hard Coach Winston’s nipples got, printed through the front of his light blue polo, near to impaling someone if he bumped into them. But Louis only laughed to himself.

Maybe, like Coach, he was just suffering from the cold.

Harry missed every opportunity to talk with him. But was it even his place? Had they reached a point now where he could check up on him or offer comfort freely? They were comrades in Shakespeare and late-night debates via text message, but aside from their brief weekend football stint, that was where the closeness ended.

Harry had just finished stuffing books into his rucksack when he spotted Niall coming down the hallway. “Ready to go?” he asked, shutting his locker.

“I am, yes. But not with you,” Niall replied.

Harry blinked.

“I’ve just seen Louis out back near the pitch,” Niall said. “I went to grab the dirty socks from the bottom of my locker. And I saw him going outside and now he’s just sitting there. By himself. Contemplating life. Doesn’t seem right.” He set his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You know how the saying goes about opportunity knocking, yeah? Go answer the door.”

“Clever,” Harry deadpanned. “What would I even say to him?”

“You’re good at making shit up,” Niall insisted. “Just be yourself, mate. Be the tosser everyone comes to love.”

There was a genius response to Niall’s jab floating around in Harry’s head, but he didn’t have time to find it. Louis was alone, maybe not in need of Harry’s comfort specifically but of comfort nonetheless. So, Harry reached out and slapped Niall in the crotch instead

“Wish me luck,” he called over the sound of Niall’s groaning and swearing before he jogged the rest of the way down the hall.

Harry found Louis where Niall said he would be, though he smelled him first. Louis’ scent was a sweet earthy musk, one he was bombarded with each day at random, always prompting him to look this way or that in search of the boy it belonged to. It drifted to Harry on the back of a cool breeze and gave him the final push he needed to round the corner.

Louis’ eyes flickered to his immediately. There was a cigarette clenched between his middle and forefinger like a vice. Against the brick wall of the school building where he sat, Louis looked small, sad, and surprised to see him.

“Aren’t you cold?” Harry asked.

Louis studied him. “’S not that bad.”

Harry turned and looked back the way he’d come. “Are you expecting someone?” he asked. Like Ralph, maybe? What if this was where they met up? Harry would never outlive the embarrassment.

“Not anyone I know of,” Louis said. “Why don’t you sit, Harry?”

He looked away, back toward the line of trees that surrounded the school grounds. Harry took a seat beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest, like Louis.

“Didn’t know you smoked,” he said.

“Does it bother you?”

Harry shook his head. “Well, only ‘cause it’s bad for you,” he amended.

Louis rolled his eyes. “You know, you’ve also said that alphas aren’t to be trusted. But look at you, sitting in restricted areas of the campus with me."

"I said that?"

"When we first met."

It was a true statement without doubt, but it was a wonder Louis remembered him saying it.

“Is this restricted?” Harry asked.

“I’d imagine so. The school’s supposed to be closed now, innit? We’re breaking at least one rule.”

Harry normally didn’t break any.

Louis pointed at him with his cigarette. “You should break more rules,” he said, as if he’d heard him. “You’d be good at it.”

Harry chuckled softly. He wasn’t sure about that. But maybe Louis saw something in him that Harry couldn’t see in himself.

For a little while, they listened only to the sound of wind rustling in the trees and fallen leaves and the creak of a tire swing at the playground across the street. Eventually, Harry’s fingers were going numb and Louis could barely conceal the shiver racking his body. Harry scooted closer to him as discreetly as he could, hoping maybe the warmth from his body would help. Their shoulders bumped and neither of them mentioned it.

“So, what’s the matter?” Harry asked.

Louis hugged his knees to his chest more tightly. He took a drag on his cigarette and then breathed out slow.  “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said quietly, eyes flickering to Harry.

Immediately, Harry felt like an idiot for presuming that he could come out here and Louis would just pour his heart out to him.

“Not now at least,” Louis added.

Harry didn’t know how Louis managed to do that every time, how he’d notice him drowning in his thoughts and he’d reached in and pull him back out before he could. Funny, Harry was meant to be helping Louis. Not the other way around.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Harry said. “I’ll be here.”

Louis’ eyes lingered on him. He stubbed his cigarette on the pavement and took a deep breath of cool air. “Would you want to walk home with me?” he asked.

Harry’s brows shot up. “Yeah. Of course,” he said, following Louis when he stood up.

Louis lifted his rucksack over his shoulders and righted his scarf. “Come on then.”

He walked with his hands jammed in his pockets and his arms pressed tight against his sides. Harry imagined a cooler, smoother version of himself reaching out and throwing an arm around Louis’s shoulders. In reality, if he tried, he was more likely to backhand Louis in the face of elbow him in the eye.

They walked in silence for the most part. Harry tried and failed to think of things to say while Louis mostly stared at the pavement like he’d either forgotten Harry was there or found the grey stone more interesting. The latter was probable.

Louis came to a stop. Harry looked at him expectantly.

“What is it?”

Louis pointed behind Harry. “Isn’t this your house?”

“Oh—” Harry glanced behind him and saw Louis was right.

Louis still had a ways to go to his own home. Harry could go inside now and leave Louis to it. It wasn’t like Louis was willing to talk about anything. Maybe he was one of those people who just needed to be alone and figure things out by himself.

Or maybe not.

“I’ll walk you the rest of the way, if that’s okay,” Harry said.

Louis’ brow furrowed. His perfect lips parted so he could speak but for a second, no sound came out.

“Yeah, if you want.”

Harry smiled and then they were off again. They were passing the small shopping centre with Tesco when Louis finally spoke.

“I had a row with Zayn last night,” he said quietly, eyes set on a point in the distance. “Then we got into it again this morning except mum was involved. She’s stressed enough as is without having to listen to us whine. But Zayn hasn’t been helping out as much with the girls. He disappears all the time without telling anyone where he’s gone. We know he’s with Liam but that’s not all that reassuring considering. He could make an effort to spend more time with the family, in my opinion. Maybe it shouldn’t matter. I can handle things on my own. But it isn’t always easy. That’s all.”

“It isn’t stupid,” was Harry’s instinctive reply. “If it upsets you this much, it isn’t stupid. And maybe part of it is that you just miss him. I’m sure you all do.”

Louis looked at him. “Yeah, I guess I do,” he said with a tiny smile. “You know what else is stupid?”

“What’s that?”

“Mating,” Louis said. “I don’t get it, at all.”

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, but we’re still young. I don’t think we need to get it yet.”

Louis smiled. “We’re not that young, Harry.”

Sure, but Harry needed to tell himself that so he didn’t think about mating Louis (because then he’d never stop) or about Louis mating someone else (because he'd rather die).

He cleared his throat. “Maybe you could wait until Zayn calms down. And then sit down and try talking about things again. That’s what my mum makes me and my sister do. Sometimes if we can’t have a civilized discussion, we write notes.”

Louis snorted. “Sorry,” he said, realising Harry was serious. “I don’t know about writing a note. But I’ll try talking to him again. Just maybe not anytime soon.”

“Why not?”

“I get moody sometimes when I’m nearing a heat,” Louis said. “Can’t do anything to help it.”

Harry’s mouth felt chalk-dry like someone had attached the hose of a hoover to his lips and sucked all the air out of him. He’d aced biology, okay? He knew Louis, like all omegas, went into heat once a month. Just like he knew all the other basic things about the anatomy of their kind. Why erections happen and where babies came from, etc, etc. But as far as Louis’ heats were concerned, that wasn’t a subject Harry voluntarily studied. For his own well being, of course.

How “near” were they talking anyway? Tomorrow or in the next few minutes?

Jesus.

Louis looked at him, smiling. “Am I making you blush?”

“No,” Harry grumbled. Maybe.

Louis went on. “Things that don’t usually bother me tend to bother me more. Zayn being gone has always bothered me because of Liam. But when I’m like this, I get mad at him for borrowing my favourite jumper or having the last of the yoghurt. Stupid things. It’s normally better that I don’t talk to anyone at all, really.”

“Am I bothering you?” Harry wondered.

“Not for the reasons you think.”

Harry lifted his brows.

“It obviously doesn’t help to be around an alpha,” Louis explained.

Right. Made complete sense. Only Harry had never thought of it like that and how was he supposed to live on now that he had?

“Sorry,” he said, the sincerity of the apology diminished by how fucking _smug_ he felt. Talk about subterfuge.

Louis scoffed. “I bet you are.”

They were approaching Louis’ home up ahead. Harry recognized it from the few times he and Niall rode their bikes this way.

“I probably won’t be in school at all next week,” Louis said. "Mum's orders."

“Right. I’m sure you’ll need rest and all that,” Harry said. “Stay hydrated.”

Louis looked like he wanted to laugh but settled on a tight-lipped smile. “Will do.”

They stopped in front of Louis’ house. “On Saturday, I’ll be at the park again,” Louis said. “If you want, you could stop by too. You need the practice.”

“I like it better when you’re trying to be nice,” Harry said.

“At least I tried." Louis smiled. "Will you come?"

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Of course he'd be there.

“Good. I’ll bring tea,” Louis said, taking a step back toward his house. “Thanks for walking me home. And listening.”

+

**30 September 2017**

Harry and his mum were in the midst of planting asters when he mentioned meeting Louis at the park. (His mum was doing the planting. Harry dug holes for the flowers and dragged sacks of mulch around at her request.)

“Louis? Jay’s son?” his mum asked. She knew Jay from Parent-Teacher conferences, football matches, and probably supermarket aisles they both frequented.

“Yeah,” Harry said, trying to make it sound like a smaller deal than it was.

She wasn’t fooled. “He's an omega, isn’t he?”

“Mhm.”

“Huh.” She took a sip of her lemonade. “Have you two always been friends?”

“He’s just helping me out with football,” Harry said, which wasn’t even close to a valid answer. “That’s all.”

Anne studied him for a bit. “Huh.”

When they finished planting, she went into the house and made a container of finger sandwiches and insisted he share them with Louis.

Which brought Harry here.

If someone had told him a month ago he’d be munching on sandwiches and sipping tea with Louis in the park, he’d have laughed. They sat cross-legged and adjacent to each other, watching a father and daughter on the other side of the pitch facing off against one another. Louis bet that the daughter would score first.

“She’s unstoppable,” Louis said with poorly concealed awe.

He almost seemed envious, either wishing he was the little girl or the father.

“My bum’s starting to freeze. Let’s play,” Louis said. He didn’t wait for Harry’s response before popping up and grabbing his ball. Harry screwed the top back on the thermos of tea, then joined Louis in demonstrating fifty ways to kick his own arse. Only love could inspire such self-deprecation.

Again they played until the sun began to set and the sky around the pitch burned orange, then collapsed into the grass and lied there. Maybe this would become a regular thing. Maybe every Saturday Louis would call him out to the pitch for football and tea. He could only hope.

“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” Louis’ voice suddenly broke the silence building around them.

“Hm?” Harry hummed.

“Tesco on my birthday.”

It took Harry a minute to respond and when he did, his voice seemed croaky. “What about it?”

Louis’ response was delayed and tentative too. “Remember what I said to you? About us? Right before we parted ways?”

“You said…we could be friends. In the future.”

“Right.”

From his peripheral, Harry saw Louis sit up, so he sat upright too.

“I think the future’s now,” Louis said with the smallest contemplative smile on his lips. The sun where it was setting behind him set fire to his brown hair and cast a reddish orange outline over his body. He looked otherworldly, angelic.  

Harry was enraptured.

He felt the way he did at Tesco. He felt like Louis was saying one thing with a million other things written in the fine print. Good things. Promises.

Liam was still an issue. Being actual, unrestricted friends with Louis would be a challenge to whatever odd coalition Liam had orchestrated with Ralph. He would absolutely not want Harry around Louis.

But the future was now and Harry had been waiting long enough for it.

He smiled, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “I think maybe you're right,” he said.

Louis raised a brow. “You _think_ ? _Maybe_? You mean definitely. I’m definitely right about this.”

Harry huffed a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m also your friend now, so you’re no longer allowed to insult me,” Louis said. “Or question me.”

“Is that what being your friend means?” Harry wondered.

“That and coming to terms with how amazing I am, yes,” Louis said. “But you're new to this, so I'll cut you some slack.”

Harry already thought Louis was amazing.

“Like I said, you’re ridiculous.”

“And your newest, most amazing friend,” Louis said.

Harry smiled, dimples denying his cheeks. “That too, yeah.”

“Good, then it’s settled.” Louis popped up with renewed energy and grabbed his ball. “Another go before dinner?”

Harry groaned, his legs and hips ached in places he’d never had to acknowledge before. But he got to his feet anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

**1 October 2017**

“Explain to me how this is any different from being friend-zoned?” Niall asked as he squirted ketchup all over a plate of chips they were sharing. Harry really hated when he did that. He preferred designating a corner of the plate for ketchup and allowing each person to coat chips in the manner they chose.

Harry also hated when Niall asked questions he didn’t have answers to.

He understood perfectly the arrangement he and Louis had forged on Saturday. He just didn’t know how to explain it, couldn’t quite sum up what it meant in words.

But it wasn’t the friend-zone. Not even close. Definitely not.

They’d made an unspoken promise to each other in the winter of 2014 and this was them making good on their word. Anything could happen now. The possibilities were endless.

“This is the start of something big,” Harry said.

Niall looked at him like he was crazy. “Of being friend-zoned, yeah.”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m taking your advice. I’m actually giving it a shot,” Harry explained. “This is just the first step. I have a shoo in now.”

“But why be just a shoo in when you can be all in? Why not just look the lad in the face and tell him you love him?” Niall shook his head in dismay and stuffed five chips into his mouth at once.

“Because I can’t rush this. I could scare him off if I’m not careful.”

“Scare him off?” Niall laughed. “Louis Tomlinson, you mean? Yeah, okay.”

Harry glanced cautiously over at the two girls sitting closest to them. But they were engrossed in a video on one of their iPhones and had missed Louis’ name. He dug around for one of the less soggy chips. “You don’t know him like I do. He’s not as brave as he seems. He’s got layers and walls and stuff,” he said as he chewed.

“When did we start talking about cake?” Niall murmured.

Harry frowned. “You’re not gonna get it. I’m doing this my way now. Thanks for your help, but I don’t- I can’t mess this up when I'm so close.”

Niall folded his hands together over the wooden café table. “I know I’ve been pushing you to go for it but that doesn’t mean I want you to torment yourself. Just don’t put up with the friend zone any longer than you have to. You’ve been through enough, mate.”

That much was true.

But Harry still felt confident about what he was doing. He didn’t have a plan but taking things slow seemed like a good place to start.

“I won’t,” Harry said before popping another chip into his mouth. “And I’m not in the friend zone.”

+

**2 October 2017**

“If you haven’t begun rehearsing your selected scenes, now would be a good time to start,” Ms Caple said loudly over the sound of the bell as everyone started packing up their things. “You have until the end of the term.”

Louis shot Harry a pointed look before collecting his books. Yes, okay, maybe that hadn’t rehearsed because of Harry. It wasn’t that he’d been avoiding it exactly, but neither was he in a hurry to demonstrate his disastrous acting skills. And regardless of the role he played, confessing his love to Louis in iambic pentameter didn’t thrill him either.

Louis was waiting for him outside the classroom. He tugged Harry by the arm and pushed him against the wall with his fingertips to his sternum. Harry’s dick honest-to-God gave a little twitch. “After practice today, we’re going to figure this rehearsal shit out,” Louis said. “No excuses.”

The universe may have slighted him when they made him an omega. He had the dominance of an alpha all worked out.

“Good idea,” Harry said like beads of sweat weren’t popping from his pores. “See you then.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Good,” he said before moseying off.

At the public library four hours later, they sat at a table by the window. He watched Louis munch on Pom-Bear crisps and sip complimentary tea from a Styrofoam cup. The steam rose and formed curls in the air around his head like a halo. And with his light blue scarf still wrapped around his neck, he looked deceptively angelic.

“So what’s up with you?” Louis asked. “I absolutely get that you don’t want to do this, but I’m surprised I had to be the one to have to force you here. You’re Mr Valedictorian, after all.”

“You aren’t forcing me here,” Harry said. “And it’s not that I don’t want to do this.”

“Then what’s up?” Louis asked, studying a particularly misshapen crisp.

Harry watched Louis pop the crisp into his mouth and chew. He had a perfect mouth.

“Acting’s just not my thing,” Harry settled on saying.

“I’m sure you’re a splendid actor,” Louis said, crushing the empty bag of crisps and tucking it somewhere in his rucksack. He dusted crumbs off his hands.

“You also think I’ve got a lot of potential in footie,” Harry deadpanned.

“You do.” Louis nodded. “You’ve got lots of potential, all-around.”

Harry’s brows wrinkled.

Louis began flipping through the Complete Pelican Shakespeare until he found Romeo and Juliet. He didn’t seem willing to explain himself. So Harry opened his book and pretended to not be fazed by it.

“So what exactly is the scene we’re supposed to be rehearsing?” Louis asked.

“We have two to choose from,” Harry said, extracting a sheet of paper from a folder underneath his book. “There’s the balcony scene and the death scene at the end.”

“Typical,” Louis said. “Do you have a preference?”

Well, yes. He was leaning sharply towards the death scene. Minimize declarations of love. Maximize morbidity. He was all for that.

“Nope,” he said, like a fool. “You can pick.”

Louis rested his chin on his fist, eyes cast at the pages of his book like the answer would float up from between them. “Romeo and Juliet don’t speak to each other in the death scene.”

“They speak about each other, though. One of us could be Friar Lawrence,” Harry suggested.

“Whoever the fuck that is,” Louis mumbled.

Harry bit down on his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He flipped his book open. “We could just read the scenes and maybe decide then.”

Louis picked up his Styrofoam cup and took a sip. “Let’s,” he said.

He proceeded to doze off about ten minutes into their silent reading. Maybe the silence was the problem. Harry tried tapping his pencil on the table in front of him but he didn’t budge.

“Louis,” he said as loudly as he could without getting shushed by the librarian.

Louis’ eyes fluttered opened and he sat up straighter. “I’m awake,” he declared, focusing on his book again.

“Maybe we should just do rock, paper, scissors.”

Louis squeezed his eyelids and frowned. “How would that help?”

“Like I’ll be the death scene. And you be the balcony scene. And whichever one of us wins, we go with that,” Harry said. “Unless you have a better idea or you’d rather just sleep.”

Louis made a face at him, clearly not appreciating his sass. “Fine,” he said. He brought his fist to the centre of the table and Harry did the same. “Ready?”

Normally Harry was pretty good at rock, paper, scissors. He always went with rock because most of the people he knew went with scissors. Gemma, Niall, his cousin, Rob. They never learned. And Harry clearly wasn’t a psychologist but given how assertive Louis tended to be, choosing an aggressive pair of scissors just seemed like a thing he would do.

So Harry wasn’t prepared for paper. He wasn’t prepared to lose. And then he did.

“Balcony scene it is,” Louis said.

+

**7 October 2017**

They played Principe on Friday and lost. Saturday, at the park, Louis was still pissed about it. Not even tea could settle him. He was juggling the ball back and forth, left foot, right foot, and rattling on and on. It was cold out, but his cheeks were flushed red from anger.

“I hate to put the blame on other people but if Mark had done his job, I would’ve made that shot.”

Harry was leaning back on his palms just watching him.

“And then Zayn was so beyond distracted. Because Liam’s nearing a rut or whatever.” Louis gagged. “He knows how much that affects Zayn and he came to the game anyway. Fucking prick.”

He kicked the ball too far away and then strolled off to retrieve it. When he came back, he babbled on, “I don’t even get why Liam comes at all. Even when he’s not near a rut, he’s still just a distraction.”

“What about Ralph?”

Louis stopped dribbling the ball, head snapping to Harry. “Huh?”

Yeah, okay, he probably shouldn’t have said that.

But he’d noticed Ralph yesterday in the bleachers next to Liam. Afterwards, he was stood too closely to Louis, possibly attempting to cheer him up about the loss. Harry had tried not to think about it. He didn’t want to spend what little time he had with Louis stressed about trivial things. But Ralph wasn’t trivial. He could very well be Louis’ alpha.

“He was there too, right?” Harry asked, twisting a thick blade of grass between his fingers. “Does he not distract you?”

“Why would he?” Louis asked.

Harry looked at him, squinting against the sun. “Are you not…together?”

Once the words were out, Harry was terrified to get an actual answer. He didn’t even want an answer now that he thought about it. He couldn’t look at him.

“It’s complicated,” Louis said.

Harry swallowed, resting his forearms atop his knees. He felt sick. “I understand if you don’t want to tell me.”

“I’d tell you if there was more to tell. There’s not,” Louis said.

“Okay,” Harry replied. He reached for his rucksack. “Do you want to go and start rehearsing now or—?”

“I’ve not mated him, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Louis said, propping his foot up atop his ball.

Harry’s face grew warm. He could feel his ears burning. “I wasn’t- That’s not what I was asking.”

“Well, now you know,” Louis replied, tossing his fringe out of his eyes. “So no, he doesn’t distract me.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing. He watched Louis kick the ball up and into his hands and prop it against his hip. He looked at Harry with slightly cautious eyes.

“Anyway, I’m ready to rehearse,” he said tonelessly.

They were seated in the library ten minutes later with their books spread in front of them and more cups of free tea when Louis finally spoke again.

“What about you?” he asked.

Harry looked up from his book, momentarily thrilled that Louis was speaking to him. Then the question registered. “What?”

Louis sighed. “Have you mated anyone?”

Very funny, that. Annoyed as he was with Harry, at least he’d retained his sense of humour.

“No?”

“Are you not sure?” Louis asked.

“No, I’ve not mated anyone,” Harry said clearly. “Who would I even—” Who would he even do that with? Especially when the only person he’d ever wanted to do it with was sat right in front of him.

Louis kept his gaze on him for two seconds before directed his attention to his book. “There’s someone out there, I’m sure,” he said absently to answer the question Harry hadn’t finished aloud. And then: “Act 2 Scene 2, yes?”

There was so much Harry could say, but he settled for hoarse,  half-hearted, “Yeah.”

+

**10 October 2017**

To be honest, Harry was surprised Liam and Ralph hadn’t sought him out sooner.

But it was Poppy Phillips that finally pushed them too. On Saturday, she’d seen Harry and Louis at the library and stopped by to say hi to Louis. The way her bright, curious brown eyes had slid from Harry to Louis and back again left a bad taste in his mouth. And sure enough, by Monday, Poppy must have told at least everyone that she’d seen them together because he heard it from Niall, from Josh, and from a random runny-nosed boy he’d never spoken to before.

Harry wasn’t surprised to learn that Poppy had stretched the truth a bit too, told people they’d been in a secluded area of the library, maybe holding hands, possibly even kissing. God, Harry wished that was all true. He wished the gossip crusaders of their school had the ability to make their lies a reality. Because Harry was here for secluded spaces, hand-holding, and kissing wherever and whenever Louis was involved.

In a way it was flattering that people — who Harry once thought didn’t even know his name — believed the rumour _might_ be true, that Louis might ever deign to let his mouth _touch_ Harry’s.

Unfortunately, rumours weren’t selective about who they reached. They spread, uncontrollably and uninhibited, and it was only a matter of time before Liam and Ralph got caught in their wind. It took longer than Harry would’ve expected.

They didn’t seek him out until Tuesday.

Ralph was supernaturally attractive the way all cool people were. Like perhaps they weren't people at all. Vampires, maybe. (Harry didn't think Louis was a vampire. Not with the natural rosy tint to his cheeks.) Ralph had deep blue eyes, a strong jaw, and reddish blond hair, cut close to his head. He was the same height as Harry but somehow managed to make himself appear taller and stronger.

In retrospect, Harry should’ve packed his things sooner or accepted that ride with Niall when he’d offered. Except that would’ve meant subjecting himself to Greg’s unending lecture, ‘How To Be An Alpha 101’.

In the end, walking home seemed like the better obvious choice to make. Until Liam rounded the corner Ralph in tow and suddenly Harry was surrounded.

So not on.

Harry sighed heavily, shutting his locker, and turned to face them.

“Just the lad we wanted to see,” Liam said.

Harry didn’t respond. Not like he had to. Liam would do most of the talking regardless.

“This is Ralph,” Liam said, slapping a hand on Ralph’s shoulder. “You’ve met Ralph, haven’t you?”

Harry kept quiet, his lips pursed.

“Now you have,” Liam said. When he spoke again, he made an effort to sound regretful. “I’d hoped you two could be friends. But it looks like that’s not gonna be possible.”

Harry looked at Ralph, finding his eyes on him already.

“And I’ll tell you why,” Liam went on.

“Does Ralph speak for himself?” Harry cut in, not really making eye contact with either one of them. He could feel the atmosphere pull tight like a rubber band.

Ralph stepped in a little closer, his hand reaching out to settle on the locker beside Harry’s shoulder. “I think you know exactly why I’m pissed off, Styles.”

Harry lifted his eyes to meet Ralph’s and then it was like he couldn’t look away, like if he did, he was losing some unspoken battle. And this battle meant everything.

“Louis,” Ralph said after a moment.

“What about him?” Harry asked, brows arching.

“He’s mine.”

Harry’s jaw set and he clenched his fists at his sides. The next person to speak was Liam.

“I know how you feel about him,” Liam said matter-of-factly. “People see you staring at him like a sick puppy. It’s sad and it's never gonna happen. He’s no longer available.”

Harry ignored Liam. “If he was yours,” he began slowly. “We wouldn’t need to have this conversation, would we? You’d have nothing to worry about.”

Ralph and Liam exchanged a look.

“Right?” Harry added, the corner of his mouth curling.

Ralph set his eyes on him again, eyebrows creasing so deeply they appeared to become one.

The thing Harry hated about blows to the stomach was that he never saw them coming. As an alpha, maybe he should’ve been able to. But when you considered the distance between eye level and stomach level, how was he expected to see a fist flying at him all the way down there?

So when Ralph punched him in the stomach, it took him by surprise like always. The air in his lungs disappeared like it’d been swallowed up in a black hole. He keeled over, clutching his stomach, bracing a hand against his locker.

“Listen here,” Ralph said, hand fisting in the fabric of Harry’s shirt, and pulled him upright.

How could Harry listen when he couldn't even breathe?

“Stay away from Louis. I won’t tell you again.”

Harry glared at him with watery eyes, the image of his and Liam’s retreating figures blurred. When they were gone, he sank to the floor and remained there until he found his breath.

+

 **6:04 pm:** _I’m outside._

After a moment of shock, Harry bolted from his bedroom and down the stairs, tugging the door open. For the second time that day, he was breathless but it was all worth it when he saw Louis sitting on his front step with his back to the door. Louis turned and smiled.

“Want to go for a run?” he asked.

And Harry, of course, said yes.

“So, apparently we fucked in the library on Saturday,” Louis said, as they started a slow jog down the pavement.

Harry choked on a laugh. “Last time I heard, we just made out a little.”

“You've got to keep up, Harry,” Louis said with a scoff. “Us making out was this morning’s news. We’ve graduated to full-on shagging by the periodicals.”

They burst into laughter until they cried and their stomachs hurt and the cool air stung their teeth. But Harry didn’t mind the pain at all.


	10. Chapter 10

**2 December 2017**

There was one minute left in their 90-minute game and it was the only one that mattered.

The moment Louis’ foot connected with the ball, everything else slowed to a near halt. The space around the red-and-white orb froze. Louis froze, leg still perfectly curved in the air. Harry froze, his breath pluming in the night chill.

The ball sailed past the other team's defenders. They were frozen. Their goalie, he was stuck too. It blindsided them all.

Then it was in and the world was thrown back in motion.

A multifarious wail rose up from the stands. Louis pumped both fists in the air, shouting as Zayn’s arms came around his middle, and soon they were engulfed by their teammates. Harry hung back, taking in the open-mouthed smile on Louis’ face and the way the bright lights around the pitch threw his hair into an iridescent glow.

Too beautiful. Everything about him was always too much. Harry’s whole body ached and not from colliding all night with boys from the opposing team.

Niall threw an arm around Harry’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug, still yelling at the top of his lungs, and Harry laughed and gave into the thrill, started chanting along with everyone else. He lost sight of Louis in the cluster of boys around him and tried not to be too disappointed about it.

They shook hands with their opponents, then most of the boys ran over to greet their parents. Harry’s mum was there with Niall’s, chatting excitedly with people Harry didn’t recognize. He started to make his way over to them.

“Not even a ‘good job, Louis’?”

Harry swivelled back around.

Louis was still smiling, his bottom lip bitten. Nothing in the world could wipe the glee from his face.

“Good job, Louis,” Harry said, lips twitching. “You were great.”

“Well, thanks,” Louis said with a small bow of his head. “You did good too. Didn’t let McNeary out of your sight the whole time.”

So he’d been watching him? Harry grinned. “All thanks to your training, yeah.”

They’d been training together for the past two months, jogging on Saturday or Sunday mornings or after school days when they didn’t have practice. They did push-ups together and ran drills. Harry felt himself improving well before it became evident. One day, he simply didn’t have much trouble keeping up with Louis on the pitch and the bitter chill of winter didn’t bother him as much with the sweat they both worked up.

“Glad I could help,” Louis said. His eyes flickered to the right of Harry’s head. Harry glanced behind him to where Liam and Zayn were standing a couple feet away. Just beside them was Ralph, with his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, looking back.

Harry faced Louis again. “Guess you have to take off?”

Louis nodded. “Guess so.”

Harry smiled and took a step back. “See you at school?”

“We’re all having pizza at Ian’s,” Louis blurted, stepping forward. “You and Niall should come too.”

Harry paused. He gave Louis a pointed look. “With you, Liam, and Ralph? That sounds like a blast.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Forget about them and just think about me,” he said, grinning. “Isn’t that the whole point of us being friends? You get to have pizza with me, regardless of what Liam thinks.”

“And Ralph?”

“If he has a problem with you being there, Ralph can go fuck himself too.”

Harry hesitated, in spite of the big smile spanning his face. This was a terrible idea. Ralph and Liam had already cornered him three times since October and Harry still wouldn’t quit. Not only because he and Louis were still working on a project together, but because he couldn’t stay away from Louis now if he tried. He couldn’t leave him alone unless Louis asked him to.

“Are you coming or not?” Louis asked, tilting his head, peering up through his lashes.

Harry inhaled a deep breath.

“Hey, Haz—” Niall called, jogging over to them.

“Do you want to go get pizza at Ian’s?” Harry asked him.

Louis smiled wide, his eyes shining, shifting to Niall.

“Hell yes. I love pizza,” Niall said without pause, clapping Harry on his shoulder. He sounded genuinely excited as if Liam was of little consequence. Bless him.

To Louis, Harry said, “I guess we’re in.”

+

They said goodbye to their mums and then Harry and Niall walked with Louis to the side of the stands where Liam and Ralph were standing. The tension turned into a physical entity, as if it were standing there too, holding hands with all of them and telling jokes that weren’t funny. Liam’s eyes narrowed instantly. Ralph’s lips twisted into a challenging grin.

“Harry and Niall are coming with us,” Louis said to no one in particular and then he started past them.

“Excuse us,” Harry said, slipping past Ralph.

At eighteen, Ian was the oldest member of their football team. He’d started primary school late and was held back in Year 6. Lucky for him (and by association, everyone else) his age meant he could supply his parties with alcohol. He was also an omega, rumoured to have mated with a 30-year-old alpha who lived in London and funded all of his elaborate functions. He was just the kind of company Liam would keep.

Harry didn’t know when the booze and bongs made it into their impromptu pizza party. But after two or three slices of pizza, the majority of the attendees were either drunk or high, or close.

Louis slinked up beside him in the living room and didn’t leave his side again and Harry didn’t ask questions.

“I once met a man with a wooden leg named Jim,” Niall was saying where he sat on an armchair surrounded by a collection of six other people. “He never told me what the name of his other leg was.”

Harry laughed more at the girl beside Niall cackling so wildly she ended up on the floor. His gaze ventured away from Niall’s circle of drunken admirers, missing the opening for his next joke, and landed on the opposing couch. On the other side of the coffee table decorated with a tall bong and empty pizza boxes sat Liam and Zayn.

Zayn was leaning into Liam’s side, twisting a beer bottle in his hand idly and listening to Liam as he murmured into his ear. His lips were pressed so closely to Zayn’s ear as he spoke, it looked at one point like he nibbled on his earlobe. Zayn laughed and leaned away placing his bottle on the coffee table. He turned and pressed a kiss to Liam’s mouth, then stood up and walked off. Liam watched him for three whole seconds before he was after him.

“They’re probably gonna go fuck in a cupboard somewhere,” Louis said abruptly.

Harry glanced at him and then again at Liam who was nowhere to be seen.

“You want to go outside?” Louis asked. “I need fresh air.”

“Sure,” Harry said. He followed Louis out the back door, ignoring the look Niall shot him. They did look suspicious, leaving in the same way Liam and Zayn just had.

Louis sucked in an eager breath of fresh air. “Smells like burnt grass in there.”

“That’s kind of accurate,” Harry replied, smiling. He watched Louis glance up at the sky for a second, tipping his head back as he breathed. When he exhaled, his breath formed small clouds of white.

“How sick is it that he has a swing set?” Louis asked, nodding toward the swings at the back of Ian’s garden.

Harry almost told Louis about his massive tree house, that he’d helped his dad build it when he was ten years old. But then he looked at the swing set and it did seem pretty sick.

“Do you want to-- ?”

“Yes,” Louis cut him off, eagerly, and started off toward the swing set. He picked the red swing, leaving the blue for Harry, scooting into it. The seats were a bit small, but Louis didn’t seem to mind, pushing his bum back into the seat as best as he could. It was slightly obscene.

They built up momentum in silence. It wasn’t till they were both swinging steadily and at the same pace that Louis spoke up.

“You know what I don’t understand?”

“What?” Harry replied.

“Why you and Liam don’t get along,” Louis said. “What happened to make him hate you so much, other than him feeling threatened by you?”

Harry almost laughed. “Threatened? By _me_?”

“Of course,” Louis said. “He sees you for what you really are.”

“And what's that?”

“You’re strong,” Louis said.

Harry slowed his swing, his heartbeat maybe slowing too.

Louis went on without noticing. “You’re better than him. You’re strong and you’re good and he must hate that.” Finally Louis brought his swing to a still and looked at him, his smile small.

“I don’t feel like I’m better at all,” Harry says. He hesitated. He wanted to be open and honest, but he was so tired of appearing weak in front of Louis.

Louis lifted his brows. “It’s just me, Harry.”

“You’ve got it wrong,” Harry said. “I feel like I’m always either submitting or trying to fight back and failing. He always wins. It’s like a never-ending cycle. I don’t know to be an alpha is the problem. I just don’t- So I can’t be stronger or better than Liam who does.”

Louis shook his head. “I obviously don’t know how to be an alpha either, but I know it’s about perception more than anything else. It’s about how you see yourself,” he said, sounding determined. He looked at Harry without an ounce of pity, with something fiery and fierce. “An alpha is strong because he says he is. He believes it so it’s true.”

“It can’t be that easy,” Harry said.

“But it is. You were shit at football a month ago and then we started practising together. But I didn’t teach you anything you didn’t know how to do. I just- I believed in you and you believed in yourself. And _that’s_ what you needed. Because, Haz, you were amazing tonight. You played your best and you were bloody amazing.”

His eyes were so bright, his voice so strong, and Harry didn’t doubt for one minute that he meant every word.

“Louis,” Harry said, slightly breathless.

“I think shit really happens when you believe in yourself,” Louis said. “You’re much better than you think, Harry. Way better than Liam. And you would wreck fucking havoc if you just- if you could just _see_ that.”

Harry looked away from him. Because he had to. He bit his bottom lip lest he blurt _I love you. I’ve loved you since I was fifteen. Please love me back._

“Thank you, Lou,” he said. “Really, it means a lot.”

“Anytime,” Louis said, knocking his shoe against Harry’s. He exhaled a big puff of air. “Let’s go see if Ian has ice cream in the fridge.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully something with chocolate,” Harry said, sliding off the swing.

“Jesus, Harry. I was just beginning to like you,” Louis said as he walked ahead of him. “Disgusting.”

Harry laughed, his chest filling up with all this unexplainable warmth despite the frigid air around them. Only as they stepped inside did he realize that he hadn’t answered Louis’ initial question.

_What happened to make him hate you so much…?_

Maybe another time then.

+

**4 December 2017**

Harry missed James' joke and Niall’s subsequent laughter dulled to background noise. All of his attention zeroed in on Louis entering the canteen. Instead of making his way over to the table where Liam, Zayn and Ralph were sitting, he was headed straight for Harry.

Harry froze with his cheese sandwich poised at his open mouth.

Niall caught on first, then James, the sound of their laughter cutting off abruptly. A few people surrounding their table quieted down too, watching Louis on his approach to the collection of lunch tables Harry referred to in his head as the Elephant Graveyard.

Had he overslept this morning after all?

Louis was suddenly right there beside him and he stopped, turned, and sat down, dropping a brown paper bag in front of him. “Hello, boys,” he said.

Harry stared at him, his mouth still ajar. No one spoke for ten awkward seconds. Niall kicked Harry in the shin, jolting him and making a thick slice of Muenster cheese slip from between the slices of bread in Harry’s hands. It fell to the lunch table with a loud, wet-sounding _splat_.

Louis’ eyes flickered to the cheese, his lips twitched. Another beat of silence and then he laughed. Niall joined him. James chuckled along awkwardly. Harry watched Louis giggling and couldn’t help but smile.

Then Niall and James went back to the conversation they’d been having.

“Are you going to pick that up?” Louis asked unfolding his brown paper bag. “Or would you rather stare at me like I’ve got three heads?”

Harry plucked the cheese off the table and dropped it on a napkin. “What are you doing over here?”

“Eating lunch?” Louis said.

Harry sighed. “You know what I mean.”

“Am I not allowed to eat lunch with you?”

“Of course you are. I’m just confused about why,” Harry said.

“I like it over here better,” Louis said simply. Harry opened his mouth to speak and Louis pinned him with a look. “If you ask me any more questions, I’ll leave.”

Harry closed his mouth. He watched Louis unpack his sandwich, an apple, and a pudding cup.

“How was your day?” he asked. “That doesn’t count, does it?”

Louis peeled back the cover of his pudding. “No,” he said smiling. “My day was fine. How was yours?”

“Same as usual,” Harry said. He glanced to his left and right. “You know I’m not the only one staring at you like you’ve got three heads.”

“They’ll get used to it,” Louis said dismissively.

“Does that mean you plan to do this again?” Harry wondered. He wouldn’t mind that at all, if not for the nagging feeling that something was wrong.

Louis huffed a sigh, pausing before he could push his spoon into his pudding. “I don’t know, Harry. I’ll see what tomorrow’s like.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

Louis’ tense shoulders slackened. “I’m fine. I’m just- Needing some space from Liam and Zayn.”

“What about Ralph?” Harry asked after a moment.

“Him too.”

“Are you two fighting?”

“We’re not anything,” Louis said.

Harry shot a glance across the canteen. “So…you’re not dating him anymore?” he asked Louis.

“Never really was,” Louis said. “But sure, you could put it like that.”

“He’s still sitting at your table,” Harry noted.

“Never really was my table. But he’s persistent,” Louis explained.

“Is that chocolate pudding?” Harry asked.

“Yes...”

Harry hummed. “So, you insult me for liking chocolate. But you’re having chocolate pudding?” He took a bite of his sandwich. “Very hypocritical of you.”

Louis’ lips curled at the corners. “My sister packed my lunch.”

“Make all the excuses you want. Hypocrisy is still hypocrisy,” Harry said, his tone condescending despite the smile converging on his lips.

Louis reached over, plucking the cheese from the napkin. Wordlessly, he dropped it into Harry’s lap. It took two seconds for Niall and James to erupt in giggles.

“You’re awful,” Harry said, groaning.

“I also happen to like chocolate pudding,” Louis said with a shrug of his shoulder and a smirk before he stuck his spoon into his mouth at last.


	11. Chapter 11

**7 December 2017**

They had another scrimmage on Thursday, this time with Louis on the opposing team with Niall and Harry on a team with Zayn. And to be honest, Harry wanted Louis to win just as much as he wanted victory for himself.

“Hey,” he heard Louis shout. He thought Louis was calling to Zayn, making faces at him like last time. When he looked, Louis’ eyes were on him.

“What?” Harry shouted back.

Louis drew a deadly line across his neck, his eyes narrowed, lips set in a frown. Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. How was it possible for even Louis’ game face to be abundantly cute? At the last second, Louis’ façade crumbled and he tossed Harry a wink before turning into the huddle with the rest of his teammates.

They started their scrimmage at the sound of Coach's whistle. The game had only been ten minutes in when _it_ happened.

Harry didn’t even see Louis coming at him, too distracted by Schussler flying towards his team’s midfielders. So when he made a dash toward him, he wasn’t expecting to collide with Louis coming in on his left.

The impact was disorienting. Harry collapsed onto the cold earth, air flying from his lungs. Distantly he heard a whistle blowing, ending the play. “Fuck,” he breathed, blinking the black spots away from the corners of his vision.

And then he realised Louis had landed on top of him.

“Whoops,” Louis said pushing himself up so that his forearms bracketed Harry’s shoulders. He smiled down at him. “Sorry.”

Harry was stunned still by the feeling against his groin. He gave an experimental twitch of his hips. And yes, that was Louis’ dick against his thigh.

His eyes widened. To his horror, the same moment he became aware of his erection was the same moment Louis tipped his head forward and looked down between their bodies. When his gaze flickered back up, his eyes were dark curious slits.

Harry had been expecting a rut with no way to know when exactly it would start. All he knew, all he’d ever known was to avoid triggers. Anger, stress, (porn definitely) and though he hadn’t been worried about it happening before, Louis Tomlinson straddling him in the pitch. The need to thrust his hips upwards, to overturn them and grind into the heat of Louis’ body was immediate.

Instead, he panicked and shoved Louis away harder than he meant to.

Louis toppled with an _oof_ and a groan.

There was no time to apologize, much as he wanted to. He got the hell out of there and didn’t look back once.

+

**8 December 2017**

It was a short rut, only a day in length, which normally would be cause for celebration. Except now Harry was left with the dilemma of going back to school and facing his teammates and facing Louis. How was he meant to look him in the fact again?

For now though, he had at least another 20 hours before he needed to think up a game plan and he was taking advantage of that, enjoying his soup in bed (because his mum always made him soup after a rut) and watching Love Actually.

He dug around beneath his covers when his mobile chimed and found it after five minutes of scavenging. The message was from Niall.

 **6:05 pm:** _You should ring Louis._

Harry snorted.

 **6:05 pm:** Why? So he can tell me what an arsehole I am? I think I’ll pass.

Harry dropped his phone on the bed beside him, turning up the volume on his film. His phone chimed again. He sighed.

 **6:07 pm:** _You broke his arm !_

Harry’s soup nearly slipped from his hand. He placed the bowl on the bedside table with his right hand, his left thumb flying over the screen of his phone.

 **6:07 pm:** Tell me you’re joking.

 **6:08 pm:** Nope. Call him !!

Holy fuck.

Harry put his head in his hand, phone crushed between his forehead and his palm.

_He’d broken Louis’ fucking arm._

He rang Louis in the next minute, pacing his bedroom, shaking out his shoulders. He listened to the line ring, eyes screwed shut.

“Hello?”

Harry’s eyes opened, startled by the sound of a little girl.

“Um. Hi,” Harry said. “May I speak to Louis, please?”

“Who’s calling?” the little girl replied.

Harry couldn’t help but smile. “Could you tell him it’s Harry?”

“Hey.” Harry heard someone say in the background. No, not someone. Louis. “What are you— Is that my phone? Who are you talking to?”

“Says it’s Harry,” the girl said flippantly.

There was silence on the other end. Harry’s heart thudded in his chest as he listened and waited.

“Hello?” Louis' voice came abruptly on the line.

Harry shut his eyes again, breathed in through his nose, then out. “Hi, Lou.”

“Hang on one second,” Louis said. His voice went muffled but Harry could still hear when he told his sister, “Go help Z. I’ll be down in a bit.”

After another minute, he returned to the line. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Harry replied. “Sorry for calling when you’re busy.”

“’M not busy.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yup.”

Okay. So he wasn’t going to make this easy. And why should he? Harry had broken his fucking arm. “I’m so sorry about your arm,” Harry blurted. “I can’t believe— If there’s something I can do, please just tell me and I’ll do it. I can write your notes for you in your classes. Or just- _Anything_.”

“Uh. I think I’ll be fine to write my own notes.”

“Was it your left hand then?” Harry asked.

“Was it my left hand what?”

“The one that’s broken,” Harry said urgently.

“Broken— What the hell are you talking about, Harry?” Louis said. “Neither of my arms is broken. Yeah, you gave me a proper push. Could’ve broken an arm but you didn’t. I’m fine.”

“Niall said—” Harry trailed off. A sudden sense of calm settled over him. He began plotting the most efficient methods of murder. Was there a way to off someone while lessening emotional trauma to oneself? Because he and Niall had been friends for a long time and it would definitely take a huge toll on his mental stability having to kill him.

He’d Google it later.

“Sorry. Never mind,” Harry said. “I’m sorry about Thursday. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I was having…a crisis…”

“It’s fine. Niall sort of explained,” Louis said.

God, no. Niall had also told Harry he’d broken Louis’ arm. He could no longer be trusted explaining anything. “What did he say?” Harry asked.

“Just that you were probably in a rut,” Louis said. On the other end, Harry heard a door close and the faint creak of a bed. “Is that true?”

Harry pushed his hand through his curls. “Embarrassing as it is, yeah. I don’t know what happened. Normally I’m able to control it. Kind of. So, I don’t know- I’m sorry.”

Louis was quiet for a moment. “So it doesn’t happen like that often then? When you’re around omegas?”

Harry sat up a little straighter, muting the telly. “Huh?”

“Like…” Louis began. “When you’re around other omegas, do you react the way you did with me?”

Harry hesitated. Definitely not the question he’d been expecting.

“You don’t have to answer that—”

“No,” Harry said. “It’s never happened around another omega before.”

“Oh,” Louis said softly. The sound of sheets rustling made Harry think Louis was probably nestled in his bed now, uniform discarded on the floor, duvet pulled up to his chest. “One more question.”

“Okay,” Harry said, swallowing thickly.

“So, does that mean I…triggered your rut or something?” Louis asked. “Me being on top of you like that? Is that what got you going?”

Harry sucked in a calming breath and gnawed on his lower lip. He pushed a hand against his groin, trying for some relief. What the fuck was even happening?

“I think- yeah, you did,” Harry said just as softly.

Louis was quiet for a beat or two. “That’s kind of hot.”

“Louis,” Harry said, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“It doesn’t have to be weird if we don’t make it weird,” Louis said. “It’s fine. But just- I’m flattered is all.”

“You are?”

“I am,” Louis said. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better. I should be in school on Monday,” Harry said.

“Good. Friday was weird without you.”

“Did you sit with Niall and Josh at lunch?”

“Just Niall actually. Josh was home sick, I think. And then Zayn texted me, said he needed to talk. So I went back over to their table. But then it turned out that Ralph was the one who wanted to talk to me instead.”

“That was a dirty trick,” Harry said.

“Yeah. But Liam probably put Zayn up to it, so whatever…” Louis said. “It’s not his fault. He thinks Ralph might be good for me.”

“So, you and Ralph, are you two…?” Harry tried to find the best words. “You're together again?”

“We were never together,” Louis said. “And nothing’s changed.”

Harry exhaled quietly in relief, shifting his mobile to his other ear. “Who was that who answered your phone?”

“Daisy. One of the twins,” Louis said.

“She’s cute,” Harry said. “Does she always answer your phone?”

“I don’t normally have anyone ringing me,” Louis said laughing softly. “Don’t normally like talking on the phone.”

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I just wanted to apologize for—”

“I like talking to you on the phone.”

“Oh.”

“But I have to go help Zayn with dinner,” Louis said. “So maybe you can call me tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Wait, are we not meeting to rehearse tomorrow?” Harry asked.

“I didn’t know if you’d be…well enough to rehearse. So I kind of promised to stay home with the girls so my mum could rest and Zayn could go out with Liam.”

“That was nice of you,” Harry said, smiling even though Louis couldn’t see him.

“I try,” Louis said. “So anyway, ring me tomorrow.”

“Okay. When?”

“Around seven?” Louis said. “I’ll’ve put a film in for the girls by then.”

“I’ll call you at seven,” Harry said, smiling as wide as he wanted because Louis couldn’t see him and he was proper giddy.

“‘Kay. Goodnight Haz.”

“Night, Lou.”

+

Harry would be mad at Niall about the whole broken arm thing. Except he and Louis talked on the phone sometimes now and he was too grateful for that to be mad about anything. As much as he’d enjoyed the random text messages, hearing Louis’ voice almost every night before bed was a million times better.

On the following Friday, a few hours after school, Louis fell asleep on the phone. Harry listened to him snore softly for a little while before he decided to hang up.

Louis called him back ten minutes later.

+

**10 December 2017**

Sunday afternoon, they were huddled in the science fiction section of the public library with their books open in their laps. There were no tables available — kids from the nearby university occupying each one as they prepared frantically for final exams. He and Louis sat opposing each other, Louis’ back pressed to one wall of books, Harry’s to the other.

“For that which thou hast heard me speak tonight…” Louis read, his eyes downcast, soft tendrils of his hair falling across his forehead. Every now and then, he’d reach up to brush them aside.

Harry had the text mostly memorized, which left him free to watch Louis as much as he wanted.

“Dost thou love me?” Louis said softly. “I know thou wilt say ‘Ay…’”

The line made Harry’s heart stutter. In his mind, he thought, _I’ve loved you since we were fourteen._

Louis flickered his eyes up to the ceiling so he could speak his next line from memory. Harry’s thoughts cut through the words again.

_I fell in love with you at Tesco on Christmas Eve._

Louis frowned. “I’m going to do that again.” He started from the top of Juliet’s line, his book propped on his knees. “Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say ‘Ay…’”

Ay. Yes. Si. Oui. Whichever was preferable, Harry wanted to say it, wanted to give confirmation and verification for all these feelings gone topsy turvy in his chest. He wanted to set them all free.

He must have missed his line because Louis knocked his knees against Harry’s and arched his brows.

Harry’s eyes darted down to his book. “Sorry,” he said scanning the page quickly. “Uh…”

“Do you want to stop for today?” Louis asked. “We already went through it four times.”

“Yeah, maybe we should. I have to meet Niall in a half-hour anyway.”

Louis closed his book. “Cool,” he said stuffing his book into his rucksack.

“You could come too. If you’re hungry? Or even if you’re not…”

Louis zipped his rucksack closed. “I don’t want to impose…”

“Good thing you wouldn’t be imposing then, yeah? I’m inviting you.”

Louis met his eyes. “Alright, then,” he said. “Yeah.”

Harry packed his book away and they left the library. Inviting Louis didn’t seem like a big deal, especially not after the party at Ian’s. Apparently, Niall didn’t see it the same way. In his defence, Harry hadn’t texted him a warning. But it still seemed like a bit of an overreaction when Niall’s mouth literally dropped open at the sight of Louis entering the restaurant behind him.

“Hi,” Harry said, stepping aside to allow Louis into the booth first.

“‘Sup, Niall,” Louis said, flipping a menu over in front of him.

Harry sat down, eyeing Niall cautiously.

To his credit, Niall recovered quite quickly. “Nice to see you, Tommo.”

“Same, mate. How’s the knee?” Louis asked in reference to Niall’s fall at practice yesterday.

“Good, yeah. Wasn’t too serious,” Niall said, glancing at the negative amount of space between Harry’s body and Louis’. Harry pretended not to notice, face warming under Niall’s scrutiny and from the press of Louis’ thigh against his own.

“That’s good to hear,” Louis said, perusing the menu. He glanced at Harry. “What do you usually have?”

Harry shrugged. “A burger.”

Louis bit on his bottom lip as he thought. “I think I just want a chocolate shake,” he said after a moment.

“A chocolate shake,” Harry repeated. “For the boy who doesn’t like chocolate?”

Louis huffed. “I like chocolate. Just not chocolate ice cream.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. A chocolate shake is just melted chocolate ice cream,” Harry explained.

Louis just looked at him. “You don’t make any sense,” he said with finality.

Niall looked back and forth between them, his lips curving. He drummed his fingers against the table. “Should I leave you two to have your lovers’ quarrel in peace?”

Harry’s eyes widened. Louis’ narrowed. They were saved from any subsequent altercation by the waitress stepping up to their booth.

He and Louis opted to share a plate of chips and got two cheeseburgers, a glass of water, and a chocolate shake. Halfway through their meal, Louis dropped his head against Harry’s shoulder and finished off his shake noisily. And Niall smiled to himself triumphantly the entire time.

Harry didn’t know when it started or why, but some metaphysical barrier had dissolved between him and Louis and when it did, Louis started touching him. A lot. Not like grabbing a fistful of his cock. It was more juvenile. A poke in Harry’s dimple here. A pat on his knee there. Or towards the end of dinner when he'd nestled his head comfortably on Harry's shoulder.

It'd come out of nowhere and Harry didn't know what to make of it. Niall did, though. Harry could always count on him.

“You're dating,” Niall announced hours later after they’d walked Louis to his house and were continuing to their own.

“No,” Harry said. "We're not."

Niall pinned him with a look. “Come _on_.”

“I would tell you if we were. I don’t think he feels that way,” Harry said. _Yet_. He was still hopeful.

“There’s no way he doesn’t like you at least a little bit,” Niall said. He shook his head. “There’s absolutely no way. He was all over you.”

Harry kicked a pebble out of the way and then kept kicking it a few paces ahead of him. “It’s easy to get confused with people like him and mistake their niceness for something else. I’m still just taking it slow…”

“Whatever you’re doing, just keep doing it,” Niall said, laughing. “Believe me it’s working.”

+

**11 December 2017**

Ms Caple was an intolerable woman with an insatiable desire to run her students ragged. If the school’s budget allowed it, she utilized any means to torment them. Maybe Harry was still a little bruised about being assigned Romeo and Juliet. But Ms Caple was also insane and everybody knew it.

He watched her slide a huge brown box onto her desk and smile maliciously at the classroom. She adjusted her glasses with her forefinger. “I hope by now you’re all prepared for the reading quiz next Monday. This will be the last assignment we’ll have before winter holiday. If anyone is having trouble with any part of your reading, do not wait until Friday to inform me. Next term we’ll begin our work crafting your stage-worthy performances.”

She reached into the box and extracted a black digital camera with a dangling strap. “This week’s assignment requires a little less preparation. But it’s equally as exciting.”

‘Exciting’ was an interesting and subjective word choice. Louis glanced back at Harry and crossed his eyes. Harry resisted a laugh.

“I want each team to go out and photograph yourselves assuming the role of whichever character you’re playing,” Ms Caple explained. “The costume, the setting, none of that matters. Assume the role. Take the photo. That’s all I ask.”

And okay, maybe Harry was a little excited. Photography excited him. His own camera sat on his desk at home with at least 200 recent photos and sometimes his palms actually itched when he wasn’t holding it. Now he had the opportunity to photograph _Louis_ , all in the name of academics.

Okay, Harry was a lot excited.

“I’d like one person from each team to come up and take a camera. If you damage it, you’ll have to pay for it,” Ms Caple said. “And good luck.”

Louis went up and took a camera, being closest to the front. After class, he handed it off to Harry. “If I don’t break it, my sisters will,” he said.

Harry cradled the camera in his hand. “Best if I hold onto it then.”

“Absolutely. Now, tell me you have some good ideas floating around up there,” Louis said as he reached out and pushed his hand through the curls falling over Harry’s forehead.

Harry tossed the hair out of his eyes, a broad smile and a blush on his face. “I might.”


	12. Chapter 12

**12 December 2017**

“ _Fuck_ you, Liam.”

Harry was headed into the locker room to get changed when he heard it and his first thought was to applaud because he wholeheartedly agreed. But it was Zayn speaking and he hardly ever spoke, especially with such vitriol. It made Harry stop dead in his tracks and take three steps back so that he was hidden by the brick wall outside the entryway.

Harry just—

He didn’t understand how he got himself into these situations.

Not when he was just a simple lad trying to live a simple life. If he got to marry Louis and have a few mini versions of him running around in the future, that would be more than enough. Just Louis, cheeky blue-eyed pups, and a comfortable home were all he was after.

But today Ethan had fallen ill and stuck Harry with ball duty. And of course today, Zayn and Liam would be having it out in the locker room, and Harry would be the one to witness it.

He heard a locker slam shut and then the sound of footsteps receding, hurrying towards the hallway. He stayed put. There’d been only one set of footsteps. Sure enough, Liam stepped outside a moment later, putting himself right beside Harry, and their gazes snapped together like magnets.

Liam’s eyes narrowed, his fists ball and face flushed, and with a step back, Harry braced himself, dropping his water bottle so his hands. Liam just stood there, looking like he wanted to fight and at the same time, like he’d already been defeated.

Then with a grunt, he walked past Harry, towards the edge of the school building. Harry watched him until he disappeared around the corner and only then did he release the breath he’d been holding.

Liam hardly ever walked away from Harry without saying or doing _something_.

Harry didn’t tell Louis about it when they were on the phone later. The howl of wind on the line told him Louis was outside, possibly kicking his football around, as he told Harry about a new boy attempting to court one of his sisters. The poor lad had apparently bought flowers by for their mum.

“The flowers were a smart move,” Harry said, while he busied himself with cleaning up his room.

Louis scoffed. “If you ever want to impress my mum, bring a pie or something. She loves pie.”

“I make a nice banana creme pie,” Harry replied.

Louis cooed. “How cute.”

 _You’re cute._ Harry bit the inside of his cheek. “How’s Zayn doing?” he asked after a pause.

“Zayn?” Louis repeated confusedly. “He’s alright. Went to bed soon as he came home though. I think he might be tired from practice.”

“Oh, that’s good then…that he’s getting rest…” Harry trailed off.

“Huh. Didn’t ask me how _I’m_ doing. Is Zayn the only one you’re concerned about?”

Harry rubbed a hand over his face, grateful Louis couldn’t see the way his cheeks suddenly burned pink. If only Louis knew there were parts of Harry, of his mind and heart, completely reserved for him. “How are you doing, Lou?” he murmured instead.

Louis was smiling, Harry was sure of it. “Very well, thank you.”

And that had been the end of that.

+

**13 December 2017**

Maybe Liam and Zayn fought all the time and then made up straight away. Maybe everything would be fine the next time he saw them. That was what he’d tell himself until proven otherwise. At lunch, he got dragged into a low scale food fight between Louis and Niall, instigated by none other than Louis himself.

Louis had flicked one of his crisps at Harry’s head, but Harry ducked at just the right time — his reflexes were improving a bit, which Louis seemed to note with a little smirk — and the crisp bounced off Niall’s cheek instead.

There was no stopping the war that ensued. Harry utilized his brown paper bag to deflect snack-food-firepower. Niall flung orange and yellow bits from his fruit cup across the table and Louis emptied his bag of crisps in a merciless barrage. It was a miracle they hadn’t gotten in trouble yet, especially with a teacher eating a few tables away.

Louis had just armed himself with a pudding cup when Zayn stepped up to their table and a piece of pineapple got him square in the stomach. The battle came to an audible halt. Harry lowered his shield. They stared at the pineapple clinging to Zayn’s oxford shirt until Louis plucked it off.

“What’s up, Z?” Louis asked.

Zayn’s eyes flickered over the table. “You think I could sit here?” he said quietly to Louis.

“Yeah.”

It was Harry who said it. Zayn’s eyes darted up to his, looking just as caught off guard as Harry felt. Harry could remember a time only months ago when he didn’t speak to Louis or Zayn, a time when they were off limits and out of reach. He hadn’t really been trying to reach Zayn admittedly but now here he was, surprising himself with how quickly he extended his metaphorical hand.

Louis glanced at Harry, maybe surprised too. “Yeah,” he repeated to Zayn.

“’Course you can,” Niall added.

Zayn smiled tentatively and took a seat, sliding his lunch tray onto the table.

“Will you two sign a peace treaty now?” Harry asked Louis and Niall, looking pointedly at Louis who was still clutching his pudding in one hand.

“But Niall hit Zayn,” Louis protested. “He fired on an ally. I can’t call myself a nuclear power if I let this go.”

“A ceasefire then?” Harry offered. Louis narrowed his eyes at Niall. “Lou,” Harry pleaded.

Louis rolled his eyes, setting his pudding down. “This isn’t over, Horan.”

“Bet your arse it isn’t,” Niall shot back.

Harry used his paper bag and a napkin to collect bits of fruit and crisp.

Louis turned his attention to Zayn, plucking an earphone from one of his ears. He tried to get him to talk for the duration of the lunch period, but Harry didn’t think it worked. By the time the bell rang, Zayn had tucked both earphones back in and strolled away with his tray.

“Everything alright?” Harry asked Louis anyhow.

Louis shrugged. “Who knows.” He tossed Harry’s curls around and pinched his cheek before he stood up. “See you at practice.”

Harry’s insides felt like mush. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

A pineapple wedge hit him in the cheek when Louis was out of sight and he turned, finding Niall grinning at him.

“Yeah,” Niall and James repeated songfully.

+

**16 December 2017**

Harry might’ve gotten carried away with the whole photography thing. He blamed Louis for giving him free reign over the project. How could he not go a little wild with Louis, the most beautiful omega in the history of the universe, at his artistic disposal?

He really just wanted to impress him with the elaborate photographic experience it took him two days to craft.

On Saturday around noon, they took the train out to Sheffield thirty minutes from home.

“You ever actually been to the Sheffield Botanical Gardens before?” Louis asked, leaning his head against the tripod in his arms. He’d insisted on carrying it, trying to be useful since Harry was carrying and his rucksack full of props.

“I came once with my mum,” Harry said. “We’ve probably visited all the botanical gardens in the U.K. Kind of. Not really. We’re getting there.”

Louis laughed. “You and your mum are adorable. With you book club and gardening.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “I guess we are. It used to be three of us, me, my mum and Gemma until she went to uni.”

“What about your dad?” Louis asked.

“He’s busy most of the time with work,” Harry said. “I think I have my hands tied enough with my mum.”

“As you should. I like your mum,” Louis replied.

Harry smiled. “You haven’t met my mum.”

“Whose fault is that, Harry?” Louis asked.

“I haven’t met your mum either.”

“ _Again_ ,” Louis said, “whose fault is that?”

“It can’t _all_ be my fault,” Harry replied. He furrowed his brows but couldn’t help the little puffs of laughter that escaped him.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Sure it can.”He reached out and poked Harry in his dimple a few times.

Without really thinking about it, Harry captured Louis’ hand in his own to stop his assault. But once he was touching him, he kind of forgot to let go and Louis forgot to pull away. His laughter trickled off. Louis turned Harry’s hand over in his own, studying his palm.

“You have nice hands,” he said after a moment.

Harry didn’t look at his hand. He knew well what it looked like. He focused on Louis and the sweep of his lashes and the curtain of dark hair over his forehead and the feel of his fingers running over his skin.

“I do?” he asked quietly.

Louis didn’t answer, just gave a little nod of his head. He kept his eyes downcast, his fingers moving between Harry’s so they were essentially threaded together. Harry inhaled slowly, something warm and saccharine settling in his veins.

“Alpha hands,” Louis commented and then he snorted a laugh at how ridiculous it sounded.

“Your hands are kind of tiny,” Harry said, not needing to look to tell him so.

Louis gasped. “They aren’t _tiny_.”

As offended as he sounded, he still hadn’t pulled his hand away.

Across from them, an old lady was smiling, her eyes soft and kind. He and Louis smiled back, then looked at each other fleetingly.

It wasn’t until the train became overcrowded that Louis finally released him in order to secure the tripod between his legs. In the next five minutes or so, they pulled up to their stop. Harry followed Louis through the doors. They still had to catch a bus to the botanical garden. While they waited, Harry looked over the bus maps on his phone again. Usually he had Niall with him when he made trips like this. Louis turned out to be just as helpful, helping decipher the route. When they zoned in to their surroundings again, Harry noticed a man hovering a couple feet away and something about him didn’t feel quite right.  

He read as ‘alpha’ loud and clear with how his gaze swept over Louis’ body. Harry pocketed his phone and stood on Louis’ right, successfully cutting off the man’s view. He didn’t put an arm around Louis’ shoulders like he wanted but he stood as close as he could to him without Louis noticing. Louis noticed anyway. Louis noticed everything.

“Thanks,” he said quietly with a smile.

“‘Course.”

They caught the bus, which was another twenty-minute ride. All this trouble for just a few pictures.

“I think to celebrate all the A’s we’re going to get, we should, like, _do_ something,” Louis said halfway through their trip.

Harry folded his hands in his lap, missing Louis’ hand in his. “Like what?” he asked.

“My friend Stan is having a party next Friday.”

“I know Stan,” Harry said, his mind turning the word _party_ over in his head. He’d only been to one before, a year ago on Valentine’s Day, ironically enough at Stan’s. Louis, of course, had been there too. On principle, Harry tried not to think too much about that night.

He’d been forced to go that party, though. He’d never been _invited_ to one. And if he remembered correctly from all those times Gemma had gone to parties with boys, he was pretty sure that going without another person constituted as a date.

“Yeah, it’s a Christmas party,” Louis added.

“Sounds nice,” Harry said slowly.

“Think this is our stop,” Louis said. The bus had pulled up outside of a sign that read Sheffield Botanical Gardens. So he’d probably thought right. He didn’t mention the party again while they strolled through the garden. He clutched the tripod in his arms and followed close beside Harry.

“This is nice,” Louis murmured. He kept stopping in front of different sculptures and tilting his head to study them. Harry didn’t mind. He’d stop beside him, tilt his head too and hum in agreement like a professional curator. When they reached a sculpture of what looked alarmingly like a man grabbing another his own balls, Louis snorted.

“Love this one,” he said. He tugged his phone from his pocket. “Harry, go stand next to this lovely lad.”

“I don’t—”

“Please?” Louis pouted.

And Harry wasn’t in the business of denying Louis a thing. Once Louis had taken enough pictures, he asked a woman passing by to take one of him and Harry together. Without warning, he grabbed Harry’s hand and settled their joined hands on top of the sculpted man’s balls. The woman looked a bit put off when she handed the phone back but Louis was reeling and Harry figured it was worth it.

After another five sculptures later, Harry finally got Louis to the rose garden, feeling like he’d been escorting a small child through an amusement park.

“So what do you need me to do?” Louis asked. They’d reached a spot by a brick wall with rows of rose bushes and rose trees spread out around them. A copper bench coated in a green patina sat in front of a white fountain turned off due to the weather. Louis shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a light pink knit jumper that made him look so soft and warm and brought out the flush in his cheeks so artfully the camera nearly slipped from Harry’s hands.

Louis caught him staring and his brows creased. “What? You told me to wear my favourite jumper.”

Harry looked down at the camera in his hands. “I can see why it’s your favourite.”

Louis braced his hand on his hip, smiling. “Are you going to give me instructions or envy me for my jumper?”

Right. Because _that’s_ what Harry was doing. _Envying_ him.

Harry cleared his throat. “Um. So you should lie down on that bench there. And then pretend you’re Juliet. And you’re dead.”

“Alright then,” Louis said, taking a seat.

“Wait,” Harry said before Louis could lie down. Louis stilled. “Forgot the rose petals.”

“Whatever you need to fulfil the vision,” Louis said.

Harry plucked a handful of rose petals of red and white and returned to Louis. He sprinkled them on the bench around him.

“Maybe you should put some in my hair,” Louis suggested.

Harry looked at the petals in his hand, then at Louis’ feathery hair. “Yeah,” he agreed. He kneeled down to place the camera on the ground and Louis leaned in a little so Harry could more easily deposit the petals on top of his hair. In a moment of impetus, Harry found himself adjusting a tuft of hair falling over Louis’ forehead, fingers brushing Louis’ skin.

He dropped his hand, reaching for the camera.

Louis’ smile was mischievous. “How do I look now?” he asked.

Harry swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing, fingers unsteady on the camera. He sucked in a little breath and met Louis’ gaze. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Louis said, biting his bottom lip.

Harry’s eyes traced the perfect curve of Louis’ mouth. His lips were the epitome of portraiture, so pink and pretty in a way no artist could truly duplicate. Louis’ smile grew, his own eyes darting to Harry’s lips. And just like that, they were caught.

Harry inhaled a quiet, cautious breath, like that first breath on the first day of autumn, that first breath before submerging oneself in the ocean.

In the infinitesimal space of time they were suspended there, Harry imagined himself leaning forward. With only two feet of space between Louis’ lips and his own, Harry could close the distance easily.

Then two blue-suited gardeners stepped around the corner, the sound of their chatter loud enough to burst the bubble building around Harry and Louis.

Harry blinked as if waking up from a dream. “Should take your picture now,” he mumbled.

Louis nodded. “Probably should,” he said. He reclined on the bench, rested his arm behind his head, and shut his eyes.

Harry snapped a couple pictures of Louis by himself, trying to move quickly because they were both cold. He set up the tripod and set the timer on the camera before getting down on the ground in front of the bench, legs stretched out in front of him, and playing dead too.

Afterwards, Louis took the camera, swearing his pictures would be shitty. (They weren’t.) He plucked a few rose petals from the bushes too, sprinkled them in Harry’s curls and Harry tried not to fall asleep each time Louis’ fingers ran through his hair.

By the time they finished, the gardens were closing. They went for pizza at a place in Sheffield. It was dark when they boarded the train again. Five minutes into the ride, Louis fell asleep, arms crossed over his chest and his head fallen on Harry’s shoulder.

This time, Harry felt daring enough to lift his arm and drape it around Louis’ shoulders.

+

**19 December 2017**

Two days remained before winter hols and Zayn and Liam hadn’t been seen together for a week. In fact, Liam hadn’t been seen at all. Zayn sat with them at lunch but hardly spoke. He had at least one earphone tucked in his ear at all times and only listened when Niall was gearing up for another joke.

Zayn, oddly enough, always listened to Niall.

“You and Louis probably remind him of what he’s missing with Liam,” Niall said to him on their walk home. “It’s why he gets all sullen around you.”

Harry frowned. “But me and Louis—”

“Like each other,” Niall interrupted him. “Yeah, I know. Everyone knows except you and Louis.”

Harry crossed his arms, trying to keep warm. “You really think he likes me?”

Niall groaned. “Just kiss him, mate.”

Thoughts of Saturday flashed into mind, he and Louis at the botanical garden, leaning in close. Harry swallowed the lump in his throat.

“He’s probably been waiting for you to make a move, so make a move,” Niall said. He smiled at Harry, his blond hair tousled by a frigid breeze. “If I’m wrong, you can have my vintage Lord of the Rings poster.”

“The one of Middle-earth?”

“What else?” Niall said.

“You swear?”

“On my left nut.” Niall said, placing a hand on his heart.

Harry’s brows wrinkled. He chose not to comment in the end.

He really did want that poster. He always had and Niall knew it. But he wanted Louis way more. He would trade all of his Lord of the Rings merch for a chance with Louis, which meant he had to square the fuck up and take a leap.

+

**21 December 2017**

The last day of classes before winter hols came too suddenly along without the harsh reality of not seeing Louis for potentially two weeks. But he’d worry about that when the day was over and they’d made it through the final leg of their semester-long project.

All those library sessions had paid off. They recited their section of Romeo and Juliet flawlessly. They chanted a few sonnets, crooned a few couplets, and held each other’s gazes, and Ms Caple was ‘tremendously pleased’.

“You know, everyone else messed up at least once,” Louis said while running drills at practice. Niall had started pairing up with Zayn recently, which again was weird but Harry couldn’t complain when he got to partner with Louis.

“Must not have practised as often as us,” Harry said, feeling smug.

“People should live by our example,” Louis said, kicking the ball back to Harry. “In all seriousness, it’s been an honour working with the smartest boy in school.”

Jesus.

Harry grinned, his hands buried in the pockets of his shorts as the ball came rolling back to him. They kicked it idly between each other, not really warming up the way they should have been. Louis kept bragging about their acting chops. ‘One step closer to the Oscars’, he claimed.

“Have you heard anything else about…?” Harry tilted his head toward Zayn across the pitch.

Louis looked at them and away. “Nope,” he said. “Probably tells Niall more than he tells me.”

Harry toed at the football before giving it a little nudge towards Louis. It stopped somewhere between them.

“That was an awful pass,” Louis laughed, walking forward to retrieve the ball.

“Sorry.” Harry smiled sheepishly. “What do you think is up with that anyway? Him and Niall?”

“Trying to make Liam jealous maybe?”

“But Liam’s not here,” Harry said.

“Sure he is. Shithead or not, he wouldn’t leave Zayn unprotected,” Louis said. “He’s not too far away. Zayn knows that. Anyway, if being around Niall stops him from looking so miserable, I won’t question it. Mum’s getting desperate, making all his favourites for dinner. Just yesterday she made lasagna. Tonight she’s doing chicken tikka masala.”

“That sounds incredible,” Harry said pitifully. “My mum left for a few days to visit her sister. So it’s just me and my dad like reheating meals she froze weeks ago. Not a fun time.”

Louis managed to look sympathetic and unashamedly amused at once. “You poor thing,” he said. Coach Winston’s whistle sounded out over the pitch for them to line up. Louis leaned over to pick the ball up. “You could come have dinner at mine.”

Harry stilled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis said, smiling.

Then Harry smiled too, in that uncontrollable way Louis inspired.

“Just be warned. It’s a fucking madhouse,” Louis said. He paused, narrowing his eyes at Harry. “You look so excited I’m worried you haven’t been eating.”

“Sorry,” Harry said, laughing. “Yes- Yeah, dinner would be nice. Yes.”

“Tomlinson! Styles!” Coach Winston said, watering the pitch with saliva. “Is your chat more important than this team?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Be at mine by 6,” he said starting to jog away.

“Should I bring pie? For your mum?” Harry asked.

Louis shot him a smile. “Only if it’s banana crème pie,” he said, his eyes crinkling, his hair gone gold and copper in the sun.

+

He was wearing a path into the pavement outside Louis’ home, working up the nerve to ring the bell, when the door flew open. Light flooded the path from the house and Louis stood there in the middle of it, looking concerned and confused with a hesitant smile on his face.

“Harry,” he said slowly. “You do know we’re eating dinner inside, yeah?”

Harry felt his face warming. “Yeah- yes, I knew that. I was just-” He looked around for an excuse.

Louis smiled. “Do you want to come inside?”

“Okay,” Harry exhaled, walking up the steps and past Louis.

“Mum’s not here yet. Should be back in another thirty minutes,” Louis said as Harry toed off his shoes. “What’s that?” He nodded to the plastic bag in Harry’s hands.

“Oh, it’s pie. Banana crème,” Harry said.

Louis raised both brows, mouth opening in shock. “ _Harry,”_ he said, “did you actually go home and make a pie?”

“No, no, my mum made this before she left. And when I talked to her on the phone today, she told me to bring it,” Harry explained.

“You’re too much.” Louis took the plastic bag from Harry, while he removed his scarf and coat. “I’ll take your coat too. You can sit and I’ll be right back.”

Louis disappeared into the kitchen to put the pie away and Harry took a seat on the blue couch positioned in front of a small wooden coffee table. The sofa enveloped him when he sat down, molding to him the way old family couches often did. With a small Christmas tree lit in the corner and stockings hung along the fireplace, Harry felt instantly at home. Screams erupted somewhere upstairs, just as Louis was stepping back into the room.

“Brace yourself,” he said. “You’re not going to remember their names so don’t even try.”

There were eight children in the home, Zayn and Louis, and six girls, not including Zayn’s older sister who’d gone off to uni around the same time as Gemma. Harry definitely didn’t know their names but he’d seen them all at least once, at PTA meetings, at football games, or around town with their mum.

A girl came running down the staircase, followed closely by a girl looking exactly like her. When she got to the third to last step, she jumped down to the landing.

When she saw Harry, she froze, her little mouth dropping open. “Louis has a _boy_ in the house,” she declared to the girl parkouring behind her.

Louis looked at Harry and rolled his eyes.

“That’s not a boy. That’s Harry,” the other one said walking past her sister. She climbed up onto the couch beside Harry and put herself right in his face, close enough that Harry could smell the candy she must have snuck before dinner on her breath. “You’re Harry, aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. The girl smiled back, a cheeky grin like Louis’.

“I am,” Harry said. “What’s your name?”

She stuck out her hand in a show of aberrant professionalism. “Daisy Tomlinson. We talked on the phone.”

Harry was just about to say that he remembered when another hand shot out between them.

“And I’m Phoebe,” the other one said proudly. Harry shook both of their small hands at the same time. Phoebe’s breath too smelled of cherry-flavoured sweets. Sneaky things, they were.

“Alright,” Louis announced, clapping his hands together. “Let him breathe.”

The girls began to complain but Louis was already latching his hands to Phoebe’s waist and tickling her into submission. Daisy’s interest strayed from Harry like he was last year’s news and she mounted the arm of the couch, readying herself for an aerial attack on her brother. In the next second, she jumped, throwing Harry’s heart into his stomach, and got her arms around Louis’ waist.

They tumbled onto the armchair, giggling and squealing. Louis’ face was flushed as they tickled him and blew raspberries on his cheeks. Harry leaned his chin into his palm, watching them with the dopiest of smiles plastered on his face.

Eventually, Louis got them to settle down, meaning he turned on the TV. The girls sat engrossed in one of those claymation Christmas films, humming along to the songs and forgetting all about Harry and Louis. Harry sort of got caught up in the film too. He was surprised when Louis tapped him on his shoulder.

“Want to see my room?” he asked, nodding towards the stairs.

Harry nodded, unable to speak with his tongue suddenly feeling stuck to the roof of his mouth. He followed Louis up the stairs, keeping his eyes down so he wasn’t staring at Louis’ bum. He might have looked once or twice but he was _seventeen_.

“Where are the rest of your sisters?” Harry asked, hoping conversation would keep his nerves at bay.

“Lottie’s probably in her room, talking to some boy. Fizzy and Safaa are asleep. Love a good nap when they can squeeze one in. Liyah, I bet, is reading a book. Proper bookworm, that one,” Louis said, pushing the door to his room open. “I’ll introduce you when they feel like being more friendly.”

Harry stepped inside after him. Louis went to turn on a small lamp, sat atop a table between two beds. “This is Zayn’s room too,” he said when Harry took note of the second bed. The one that Louis wasn’t currently sitting on.

Louis was sitting on his bed. In his room. Where Harry currently was too.

Harry stood there, unsure what to do with himself. Should he sit down or lean against the wall, prop his arm up on the dresser and play it cool? He observed the décor while he mulled it over. The walls were midnight blue, covered with posters of superheroes and bands. The cream coloured curtains were drawn back to let the moonlight in. While Harry studied the room, Louis studied him, making him sweat a bit in his plaid button-up. Awful choice of attire, it was.

Harry cleared his throat. “So, where’s Zayn?” he asked.

Louis frowned, his brows creasing inquisitively. “Do you have a crush on my brother?”

“What? No,” Harry replied quickly. “No. _No_.”

“You keep asking about him,” Louis said. “And you’re being so nice to him lately even though he’s with Liam.”

“It’s just because he’s sad. And you were kind of with Liam too, like part of his circle or pack or whatever. And you and I get on just fine,” Harry explained.

“That’s different,” Louis said. “Would you _sit_ _down_ already?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, squeezing his hands into fists to make sure they weren’t shaking. He took a seat on Louis’ bed, one leg folded on the mattress, one leg hanging off, the same way Louis was positioned.

“I was always part of your circle before I was part of Liam’s,” Louis said quietly. “Don’t forget that.”

Harry didn’t entirely understand that, but it was effective anyway. Louis always knew just what to say to get him feeling weak and strong at the same time.

“Thanks for coming,” Louis said after a moment.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Harry replied, circling his thumbs around themselves.

“Thanks for bringing pie,” Louis added.

“Should thank my mum.”

“I will when I meet her. And next time, you can bring one you’ve made yourself,” Louis said. It might have been Harry’s imagination but he thought Louis scooted a little closer. “My sisters like you.”

“Do they?”

“Mhm,” Louis hummed. He’d definitely scooted closer. “And Daisy’s convinced you’re my boyfriend ‘cause we’re always on the phone.”

“We do talk on the phone a lot,” Harry commented, scratching the side of his neck.

Louis’ eyes were cast down at the bed, running his fingertips over the duvet. “Do you think it’s weird? Us talking on the phone so much? Hanging out all the time?”

Harry shook his head. God, he couldn’t even _speak_. The room, it smelled like Louis. At least from where they sat. He could catch Zayn’s scent too but he wasn’t overwhelmed by it. He picked up Louis’ scent everywhere. This was where Louis slept. This was where he dressed in the morning and undressed in the afternoon. He talked to Harry on the phone curled up in these sheets. He read Shakespeare by the light of that lamp. And when he was in heat, this was where he sought orgasm after orgasm, gasping into the same air Harry now breathed.

Louis was everywhere.

Harry sucked in a breath when Louis looked up and met his gaze, his eyes so terribly blue.

“It’s not weird,” Harry said softly.

Louis scooted so close his knee hovered over Harry’s thigh. His fingers had stopped tracing the threads of the duvet to trace the hairs on Harry’s forearm instead. Harry’s heart was rabbiting in his chest, like it wanted to spring out and burst through Louis’ window and run for safety. Because everything was on the line, his heart, his head. All of it was here for the taking.

“You don’t like Zayn,” Louis repeated.

“No.” Harry shook his head, his hair brushing Louis’ forehead when he did.

“So…?” Louis trailed off.

Harry swallowed. “I—”

Laughter exploded downstairs. A door shut. Keys jangled.

Louis shut his eyes, releasing a deep sigh. “Mum’s home.”

Harry’s courage deflated like a balloon. Kissing Louis was a near insurmountable task, but meeting his mum seemed a thousand times more terrifying.

“Time to make a good impression. No pressure though,” Louis said, standing.

“Thank you, Louis. I don’t feel nervous at all now.”

Louis laughed, wrapping his hand around Harry’s forearm. “Come on,” he said, pulling him along.

As they descended the stairs, Harry suddenly felt hyper-aware of having been _up_ the stairs at all, particularly with how Louis’ mum, Jay, zeroed in on him. She unfolded herself from a hug with the girls. There were now four girls standing in the hall, all looking at him. Louis had been right; Harry didn’t remember any of their names. Except maybe Fizzy? His insides felt exactly that at the moment.

Louis pressed a kiss to his mum’s cheek, murmuring a “hi” as he stepped away. He pushed his hands into his back pockets. “Mum, this is Harry.”

Harry stuck his hand out for her to shake, summoning his best smile, dimples out and ready to impress. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi.” She shook his hand, her grip soft but strong. “You’re Anne’s son, then? Your mum’s been trying to get me to join her book club.”

“She wants everyone to join her book club,” Harry said apologetically.

Jay _almost_ laughed. But he took the smile for a win anyhow. She released his hand. “Come into the kitchen for tea,” she said moving past them.

Louis shot Harry a smile and gave him a nudge toward the kitchen.

“Where’s Zayn?” Jay asked removing her jacket while Louis turned the kettle on.

“Out back last time I checked,” Louis said.

“Still upset, is he?” Jay pushed her sleeves up to her elbows. “Go talk to him. Get him to come inside.”

“I’ve already tried. He doesn’t want to talk,” Louis explained, removing three cups from an overhead cupboard. Jay reached up to grab a fourth.

“Call him in for tea, then,” she said. Louis hesitated for a moment.

Jay tilted her head towards the door. “Go,” she said, touching Louis’ shoulder. She set her gaze on Harry. “I’ll chat with Harry while you’re gone.”

Louis sighed and retrieved his coat. Without another word, he slipped out the back door.

Jay dropped tea bags into the cups. “So, you’re an alpha, aren’t you?”

Harry straightened his spine. “I am.”

“Are you planning on going to university?” she asked.

“Definitely. I’d like to,” Harry said.

Jay kept her eyes on him. They were so much like Louis’ but far more guarded and shadowed by years of hard work, among other things. The kettle whistled loudly and she turned away from Harry to lift it from the hob and fill the mugs with water.

She brought a cup over to Harry, placing it down on the table. “Have a seat,” she said, doing the same. Harry sat across from her.

“Thank you,” he said when he slid the tea closer to himself.

Jay sipped quietly. “How’s your project going with Louis?” she asked after a moment of silence.

“Very well,” Harry said. “He’s a good actor.”

“I’m sure. He used to want to be an actor. Don’t know what he wants to do now,” Jay said. “Could do anything probably.”

“Absolutely,” Harry said.

A small smile graced her face. Just then, Louis came back into the kitchen without Zayn.

“Says he’ll have tea after dinner,” Louis said.

Jay sighed. “I’ll go,” she said, grabbing her coat off the back of the chair. “Could you peel the potatoes while I’m gone? Get the girls to help you.”

“I could help,” Harry said. Jay looked at him.

Louis smiled. “Harry will help me,” he said to his mum.

With one last smile, she stepped outside.

Louis hip-checked Harry a few times as they peeled potatoes. Sometimes as he passed behind Harry to get to the sink, he brushed up close behind him. And when Harry’s spine straightened, Louis would smile coyly. He knew exactly what he was up to.

Jay did return with Zayn after a while and shooed Louis and Harry out of the kitchen while she chatted with him over a cup of tea. Louis introduced Harry to his four other sisters before stepping back into the kitchen to help his mum finish dinner. While he was gone, the girls threw all sorts of questions at Harry, shiny lip-gloss smeared mouths moving so quickly he couldn’t keep track, bar the one they called Liyah, the bookworm, who was quieter, more laid back and observant like Zayn.

Eventually, Louis rescued him by having him set the table, and then they all sat down to eat. Harry answered questions. Louis toed at his foot under the table to torment him. Harry blushed and stuttered over more answers to more questions.

“Let him finish his dinner,” Jay finally said to the girls.

Zayn pushed peas around his plate. Daisy and Phoebe flicked their peas across the table at one another — Harry could only imagine who they’d gotten that from. They ate Harry’s mum’s pie and when Charlotte asked Harry to bring another around sometime, Jay nodded in agreement. Another definite win.

Just like that, it was over and Harry had survived dinner with Louis’ family.

Louis followed Harry outside and shut the door behind him, effectively cutting off the sound of chatter flowing from his house. He stood there illuminated by the exterior light, pulling the sleeves of his grey jumper down over his hands to keep them warm.

“Your family’s really nice,” Harry said after a moment.

Louis smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I think we’re probably breaking a fire code or something, all of us under one roof.” He wrapped his arms across his stomach, bouncing a little on his feet.

“You should go inside,” Harry said, taking a step away. Either that or he was going to hug him.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” Louis asked.

Harry stopped. “Um-” He licked his lips. “Well, we have that reading to do over the holiday. Might get started on that?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Okay. Let’s pretend you gave me a different answer. Remember I told you about Stan’s Christmas party tomorrow?”

Harry hadn’t forgotten. “What about—”

“Go with me,” Louis blurted.

Harry’s smile grew slowly. “Okay.”

“Only if you want to,” Louis said, clearly missing the genuine look of glee on Harry’s face. “Don’t let me force you. It might not even be fun—”

“Louis, I want to go with you.”

“Then it’s settled,” Louis said. “You can pick me up at 8.”

“I’ll be here at 8.”

They stood there shivering in the cold and smiling at each other like fools. Louis cleared his throat, stepping back. “Okay, so I’ll see you then.”

Harry nodded and watched Louis walk back to his door. He waved one last time before Louis shut the door behind him. When he turned to leave, he had a bounce in his step. With no one around to notice, he could very well skip home. In fact, he would.

“Hey.”

Harry came to a halt. He straining to see against the bright exterior light, just able to make out the outline of someone seated on the ground against the brick of the home. But he didn’t have to see them clearly to know it was Zayn.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, though he could see the small orange glow of a cigarette.

Zayn didn’t bother to answer. “Come sit with me. Have a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke,” Harry said, feeling genuinely apologetic.

“Just come sit then,” Zayn said, voice soft but demanding. Harry walked past the range of exterior light and his eyes adjusted in the darkness where Zayn was sitting in the grass.

“What’s with the boys in your family freezing their arses off for a smoke? Are you trying to catch a cold?” Harry said. He sat down anyway.

“Can’t smoke in the house. Mum’s rules,” Zayn replied, picking at a hole in his jeans. He took a drag on his cigarette and blew smoke out through perfectly rounded lips. He really was beautiful, especially like this, lit only by the bluish glow of moonlight and the fire of his cigarette.

“So,” Zayn said. “Do you like Louis?”

Harry glanced over at the front door like Louis might be standing there listening in. He wasn’t. But Harry didn’t answer for a long time, hoping maybe Zayn would forget. Eventually Zayn turned and looked at him, face expressionless, and refused to look away.

Harry sighed. “I do.”

Zayn nodded, drawing on his cigarette again. “He likes you too.”

“He said that?” Harry asked breathlessly.

Zayn huffed a small laugh. “He doesn’t have to. I know him. And I’m 100% sure he likes you.”

Harry’s whole body felt warm in spite of the brutal bite of winter. All he could think or feel were Louis’ fingers between his, sliding along his forearm. He wasn’t 100% sure about anything, but he was somewhere close. All these feelings, all this need, it wasn’t just him.

“Should you have told me that?” Harry wondered after a moment.

Zayn shrugged. “Don’t see how he’d find out. I won’t tell him and neither will you.” It wasn’t a demand, exactly. But Zayn probably expected Harry to agree and Harry wordlessly did.

“I want him to be happy,” Zayn continued. This was already the longest conversation they’d ever had. “And you make him happy.”

Harry wrapped his arms overtop his knees. “He makes me happy too,” he admitted.

“Good,” Zayn said before another drag.

Harry watched a stray cat run from beneath a car and onto the other side of the pavement before disappearing into the night. Hopefully, it found somewhere warm to sleep for the night. When he glanced at Zayn, he noticed his eyes were stuck on the same spot where the cat had disappeared.

Zayn finished off his cigarette and withdrew another one.

“I’m sorry about Liam,” Harry said as Zayn brought his lighter to his mouth. Then his hands stilled.

Zayn’s eyes flickered to his and Harry instantly felt sorry for saying anything with how sad he looked all of a sudden. Zayn took the cigarette out of his mouth and tucked it with the lighter back into his pocket. He dragged a hand through the front of his black hair.

“You know, one time--” he began, his voice brittle. “One time, Liam and I found this kitten in the park. It was so small and it was dying. We talked about raising it or something. It was a stupid idea, but Liam promised me one day, he’d get me a million cats. We’d have a house full of them.” Zayn laughed a little, his eyes crinkling. “It was stupid. I actually like dogs more than cats. But it felt good doing something like that together, saving something, and then making all these promises. Liam thinks all he’s good at is hurting people. Like that’s what he’s destined to do. But it isn’t true 'cause like he saved that kitten and he saved _me_ , you know? That’s what he doesn’t get.”

Harry listened to him. He’d always been a good listener, even when he didn’t understand. Picturing Liam as some kind of saviour was hard, nearly impossible. But he saw in Zayn’s eyes how much he believed what he’d said and maybe that was enough for now.

“I know he’s been shit to you,” Zayn said, setting his eyes on Harry and catching him off guard yet again. “I’m sorry about that, mate, I really am. You never deserved that. You’re a good person and you shouldn’t have to put up with his shit, you know? It’s wrong. And I’m sorry.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah it is,” Zayn said. “It’s my fault just as much as his. And even if it weren’t, I’d still take the blame. ‘Cause that’s what being in love does to you, along with lots of other crazy shit. Avoid it as long as you can.”

“It’s too late for me,” Harry said quietly

Understanding flashed in Zayn’s eyes. “Right,” he said. “I should’ve known.”

Harry picked at the quick of his nails. “I hope you and Liam work things out,” he said after a second.

Zayn gave a little shake of his head. “I’m not sure we will,” he said.

In the light of the moon, Harry caught the sheen of tears in the pockets of Zayn’s eyes. Zayn had his face tilted away like he was hiding, like didn’t want anyone to see him cry, and Harry’s heart broke for him.

“If I hugged you, would Liam be able to pick up my scent later?” Harry said. “If you two happened to work things out?”

Zayn looked at him. “Probably, yeah,” he said, wiping the sleeve of his coat roughly over his eyes. “But I don’t really care.”

Harry shuffled closer and reached an arm around Zayn’s shoulders, pulling him into the warmth of his body. Zayn came easily, more so than Harry would have expected. But he was hurting and people in pain did unexpected things. They stayed like that for a long. Briefly, Harry wondered what Louis would think if he saw them like this, if he would be grateful or if he’d ask, “Where’s my cuddle, huh?” Harry would bet on the latter.

“I should probably get some sleep,” Zayn said, lifting his head. “You too. You’ve got a big party to attend tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah,” Harry said withdrawing his arm and smiled.

Zayn smiled back and together they stood up.

“Thanks for sitting in the cold with me,” Zayn said as he stepped past him. He slid his hands into his pockets while he walked. “Have a good night.”

“You too,” Harry said, starting down the drive.

“Hey, Harry,” Zayn called, stopping him in his tracks again. “If all else fails, just kiss him.”

Harry’s cheeks dimpled. Zayn threw up a peace sign and then stepped into the house and the door slipped shut.


	13. Chapter 13

**14 February 2016**

Harry tried excuse after excuse. He hated to lie, but the truth — that if Liam was attending a party, Harry couldn’t be — hadn’t worked.  When honesty failed, there was no choice left. He tried being ‘sick’. He had a ‘big test’ on Monday to study for. ‘His mum wouldn't let him’. None of it worked on Niall, who insisted that if he had to go to the party, Harry should have to go too.

In the end, Harry agreed to go because he couldn't leave Niall to venture into the lion’s den alone. Greg would be there, but that didn't comfort him all that much. And as for Liam, Harry had just drafted a history paper for him a week ago and that usually kept his aggression reduced or directed elsewhere.

Until then, Harry celebrated his Valentine’s Days with his mum, baking heart-shaped biscuits for the old ladies at the nursing home. Afterwards, they’d watch ‘I Love Lucy’ or an Audrey Hepburn film, sipping tea and munching on the batch of biscuits they’d made for themselves.

When his dad returned from work, he’d whisk her away for dinner. Gemma would be out and about with whoever she happened to be dating at the time. And maybe he felt a little lonely then and counted the hours until the holiday was over and promised himself for the hundredth time:

_It won't be like this forever._

The cure to his loneliness was _not_ a house party. Surrounding himself with chummy couples only made his perpetual bachelorhood more painfully apparent and he had a solid sense of self-preservation, however limiting it could be. But it wouldn't save him now.

After his parents left for their date and Gemma left for hers, Harry peeled himself off the couch and got dressed.

He wore a red polo, trying to channel the colours of love and passion for motivation. He spent an extra five minutes trying to get his curls to sit just right and spritzed himself with some of his dad’s Tom Ford cologne his mum bought his regularly.

He did have some need to impress.

Kids were coming from all over, students from neighbouring schools and towns, well outside the range of people Harry had grown up around. But of the dozens expected to show, Harry only cared about one.

Stan Lucas was Louis’ oldest friend. They’d known each other since they were toddlers, longer than Louis had known Zayn, long before his dad left his mum. Louis was guaranteed to be there.

So Harry brushed his teeth three times and reshaped his hair each time he did, applied extra deodorant, and re-ironed his polo when it got wrinkly while he was sitting on the couch. Louis wouldn’t even notice him and even if he did, they wouldn't talk. But he had to look his best in the off chance he was wrong.

A horn blared outside and Harry hurried to Greg’s whiny green car, fist-bumping Niall who was hanging out the passenger window.

“Ready to fucking party?” Greg yelled.

Niall twisted around in the seat. He looked sceptical himself, his brows raised.

“Yeah,” Harry said, pasting a smile on his face. “Ready to party.”

If he sounded like he was dying when he said it, it's because he might've been. Greg turned up the music, sticking his head halfway out the window to howl at the moon.

+

**22 December 2017**

“If you drink anything aside from water or a soda pop, every last hair on your head will fall out. And then you’ll be bald and single forever,” Harry’s dad said, holding the keys out and then pulling them back towards his chest before Harry could grab them. Harry groaned, eyes flickering to the clock on the wall.

“My hair is going to fall out anyway. Thanks to you,” Harry said, trying to grab the keys again.

His dad looked offended, rubbing his free hand over his sparse hair. “Prematurely bald, H,” he clarified. “Bald in your twenties, do you want that?”

“I swear, not a drop. Just water and soda. I swear on my hair. Please, ’m gonna be late,” Harry pleaded.

His dad finally tossed him the keys, his lips curving in a grin. “And don’t knock anyone up.”

Harry almost laughed. He'd have to actually _mate_ with someone first and the only person he wanted that with was Louis. And he had to at least kiss him first.

Anyway.

He forced himself outside and raced to the car.

Harry kept checking the time on the dashboard while he was waiting for the car to warm up. He couldn’t very well pick Louis up in an icebox, but it was 7:50 already. Louis was just up the street, but anything could happen. He could hit a squirrel. He could spontaneously and unexplainably run out of petrol. He could be swallowed up in a sudden crack in the earth.

The first blast of warm air into the car had Harry shifting into gear and pulling out of the drive. He dragged his hand through his curls, pushing them away from his eyes, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, his dormant leg bouncing with nerves.

He cupped a hand over his mouth, checked his breath, and then slapped his hand back on the steering wheel quickly because he’d veered a little too far to the left, nearly grazing a car parked on the kerb.

He took a deep breath to steady his racing heart, glanced at the time on his dash again. 7:56. For a second, he thought he would actually be late. But when he looked to the left, Louis’ house was there, casting light onto the road.

He parked, tugged his phone from his pocket with shaky fingers, and sent a quick message.

 **7:56 pm:** Hure.

 **7:56 pm:** Sorry I meant heee!

“Fuck,” Harry swore under his breath.

 **7:56 pm:** I’m here.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d needed his inhaler, but he reached into the glove box and found the extra one his mum kept there for emergencies. It helped a bit. Enough that he could breathe steadily as he headed towards Louis’ door, running his fingers through his curls all the way there. Alcohol or not, he might be bald by the end of the night.

The door swung open and Louis stood there with his phone in his hand, leaning against the doorframe in dark skinny jeans and a black jumper. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Does ‘heee’ mean you’re excited to see me?” he asked.

Harry smiled, dragging a hand down his face. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You were almost late,” Louis commented with an impish grin. He looked past him. “Nice ride.”

Harry glanced back at the car. “Thanks. It’s my dad’s.”

Louis held the door open for him so he could step inside, then pulled his coat on and grabbed his scarf. He pushed his feet into some Adidas and patted the pockets of his coat to make sure his keys were there and then with a big puff of air, he said, “Alright. I’m all set.”

Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

Louis paused as he reached for the doorknob. “Did you change your mind?” he asked Zayn who stood at the landing of the staircase. He was dressed in a beige jumper and black jeans. “Might just come along for a bit. If that’s alright with you both?” he asked.

Harry smiled. “Of course it’s alright.”

Zayn returned his smile and though it hadn’t reached his eyes, it was enough. He grabbed his coat quickly and shrugged it on, tucked the lacings of his boots in without bothering to tie them. Louis got a scarf for him, looped it around his neck, and patted his cheek.

“Now,” he said, “Let’s go.”

+

**14 February 2016**

He spotted Louis long before Louis saw him. In fact, he was the first person Harry saw. Standing on the coffee table, he was hard to miss, his hand waving in the air to the beat of a song. He wore red jeans that made his legs look glorious and a blue and white striped shirt. It was hard for Harry to look away. He was bumped into and pushed as he stood frozen there until Niall gave him a yank forward.

A disco ball was hastily strung up on a small chandelier over the dining room table. Harry was curious about how Stan got away with doing that. His own mum would’ve roasted him like a Christmas ham for hanging anything on her chandelier. But Stan’s mum was rumoured to be younger than most, currently out on a date, and uncaring about what her son got up to.

This particular disco ball cast tiny pink and white hearts about the room and as they swirled over Louis’ body, Harry thought it an accurate representation of how he generally saw Louis in his dreams.

A large plastic punch bowl was sat on the dining table. A pinkish orange concoction swirled inside, vibrating to the beat of the music. It could’ve very well been the punch but from the way a few kids were dancing, throwing themselves into each other, tripping over their feet, it seemed unlikely.

Louis had a plastic cup in his hand, half-filled with the stuff. His cheeks were flushed and he was laughing at Zayn doing an arrhythmic version of the robot under the disco ball. Liam was nowhere in sight but most likely not far away.

“Come in, come in,” he heard from the mouth of a short boy with dark brown hair, wearing one of those plastic halos attached by a headband to his head. Greg slapped hands with him. Someone else threw an arm around Niall’s shoulders and ruffled his hair. Harry followed close behind them, not wanting to stray too far, not having anywhere to stray to.

Greg flicked the boy’s halo. “Fuck is this?”

“Don’t touch the halo, man. I’m Cupid. I can’t be Cupid without the halo,” the boy replied.

Harry nearly pointed out that contrary to popular belief, Cupid was a god of Roman mythology and not an angel, that it was the influence of Renaissance painters that turned him into a chubby man-child with a bow and arrow. Thus, it was entirely possible to epitomize Cupid _without_ the halo.

He had a feeling though, that lessons in mythology weren’t conducive to party etiquette and when Niall murmured, “that’s Stan,” he figured it was probably best not to insult the host either.

They followed Greg and Stan over to the vibrating punchbowl and an array of crisps, salsa, and dip.

“I call it Sunset Punch,” Stan was telling Greg.

Harry’s eyes flickered once again to the dining room table but Louis was gone. Liam had also appeared out of nowhere and was pulling Zayn into a corner by his hips.

“Here,” Niall said, shoving a cup into Harry’s hands.

Harry stared into the liquid sorbet, raising an eyebrow. He leaned close to Niall and hissed, “Are you actually going to drink it?”

“Why not?” Niall asked.

“What if it’s spiked? With like cocaine?” Harry whispered. He wasn’t even sure if that was how cocaine worked but that wasn't the point.

Niall looked into his cup questioningly. “Where do you think he’d get cocaine?” he said, too loudly.

“You didn’t know?”

That was Louis, suddenly standing right there beside them, leaning in to speak in a hushed voice. “Stan’s mum is a drug lord. She's got all the best shit.”

Harry stared at him, his mouth ajar.

“Makes sense,” Niall said with a shrug, then he put the cup to his lips and turned away.

Harry glanced around the room, scoping out alphas in the vicinity who might not like him talking to Louis. He made eye contact with at least three other boys and two girls, all alphas he guessed.

“Relax,” Louis said. “I’m just saying hi.”

Harry blinked at him, the easy smile on Louis’ face making the tension fade from his shoulders.

“Hi,” Harry replied.

Louis smiled, the pink and red hearts dancing over his slightly flushed skin. “Try it,” he said nodding towards the cup in Harry’s hands, his gaze mischievous. “I mixed it myself.”

“Did you name it too?” Harry asked. When Louis looked at him confusedly, he explained, “Stan said he calls it Sunset Punch.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Stan’s full of shit. That was my idea,” he said. His eyes flittered back and forth between Harry’s. “Try it.”

Harry lifted the cup to his mouth and took a sip. It was bitter but sweet too, and fruity. Harry tasted mango and strawberry. It burned a little going down his throat, but it was good and Louis had concocted it himself, which made it better.

Louis lifted his brows. “Not so bad, yeah?”

“It’s good,” Harry said, and took another sip.

Louis watched him drink, happily, eyes crinkled and sparkling in the kaleidoscope lights. And then he was moving past Harry, their gazes still locked. “Bye,” he said, wiggling his fingers. He slinked up to the punch bowl and refilled his cup. The way he stood, hips cocked to the side, one foot crossed behind the other, made his bum look fantastic, and the hearts were still moving across his body. He started moving a little bit to the beat, drumming his fingers on his thigh as he took a sip of his drink, the vein on the side of his neck tempting Harry to just latch his lips onto his skin and kiss so roughly and for so long he drew blood.

Louis was just- So incredibly beautiful and he knew it. Everything about him said so — the way he moved and waved and smiled at people across the room. The way he stood alone and somehow seemed to encapsulate the thrill of the entire room. The way he was never alone for long because his laugh had people gravitating towards him, desperate to be in on the joke.

There was a reason why perpetually horny teens didn’t mix well with alcohol and Harry’s dick chubbing up in his trousers was that reason. He peeled his eyes away from Louis’ slim waist and hurried off in search of the loo.

Harry walked all over that floor of the house, into the kitchen, into a cupboard, and into a nook by the door in search of the toilet. He tested a few doors only to find them locked.

“Toilet’s downstairs,” a girl standing nearby shouted to him. She pointed to her left. “That way.”

Harry shot her a smile. “Thank you,” he said and then he went off in the direction she’d pointed. For all he knew, she could have been playing a prank on him. Teenagers were cruel enough when they were sober. Harry could only imagine the barbarity they got up to drunk. But by now, he was desperate for a wee and maybe a wank.

He rounded the corner and found the stairs leading to the basement. The light was off over the stairwell but Harry couldn’t find a switch to turn it on. So he pressed his hand against the wall as he descended into the darkness to steady himself. The effects of Louis’ concoction made the staircase seem steeper and more precarious than normal.

“I think someone’s coming.”

Harry froze on the third to last step. He recognized the voice before he ducked his head a little and saw Zayn up ahead, leaning against the brick wall of Stan’s basement, his head bowed, fingers clutching the shoulders of the person between his legs.

“Someone’s gonna come down here,” Zayn said, his voice a little weak.

“I’ll get rid of them.”

That came from Liam, currently on his knees, running his hands up and down Zayn’s thighs.

“Babe—” Zayn began to complain.

“Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good,” Liam murmured, looking up at Zayn. They stared at each other, a silent conversation happening across their gazes, and Liam must have gotten the approval he needed because he dropped his mouth to Zayn’s crotch and Zayn’s eyes slipped closed, a low moan leaking out of his mouth, echoing in the hollow space around them.

They must have been drunk, on Sunset punch and on each other. It was the only explanation for how Harry was able to slip carefully back up the stairs undetected.

+

**22 December 2017**

Zayn stepped into the house first, his hands hidden away in the pockets of his coat, shoulders hunched. Louis and Harry were right behind him, shaking the cold off their limbs. Louis rubbed his hands together and huffed hot air onto his fingertips.

Harry looked around while they removed their coats, everything instantly familiar except for the lack of pink and white hearts swirling on the walls. In fact, there was no disco ball at all. Instead the space was lit by strings of fairy lights along the walls, a large Christmas tree near the fireplace, and the lighted artificial pine garland wrapped around the stair railing. It was nice, and homey in a way the Valentine’s party had never been. As an added bonus, the Christmas tree was real, which meant the scent of pine spread throughout the space, intermixed with the smell of alcohol and marred faintly by a tinge of weed.

“You look nice,” Louis said, after they'd thrown their coats and scarves over an armchair.

Harry had worn a simple black t-shirt beneath a gray cardigan, as recommended by Gemma. He'd called her earlier that morning in near hysterics after combing through every article in his wardrobe four or five times.

“Simple is always best,” Gemma had said calmly. “And black is always sexy.”

From the way Louis’ eyes swept over his body, Gemma had probably been right.

“So do you,” Harry said, his eyes just briefly tracing the dip of Louis’ collarbones exposed by his jumper.

“Thank you,” Louis said and his cheeks were maybe a shade rosier when he looked away. Harry cleared his throat and looked away too.

Zayn was tensed at his side, making no attempt to remove his coat. He peered intently around the dimly lit room.

“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Harry found himself saying.

If Zayn was surprised by Harry’s offer, it didn’t show on his face. He smiled. “Thanks, mate,” he said beginning to unbutton his coat.

And then as Harry turned his attention back to Louis, he did spot Liam. Trouble is Zayn did too.

There was a gap in a throng of party guests, large enough to see Liam _and_ the girl standing at his side, pressed too closely. Her hand was on his bicep, her mouth at his ear. To Liam’s credit, he looked wholly uninterested in whatever she was saying. But the implication of their closeness was damaging enough.

It was hard for Liam to miss Zayn. Not only because his scent was wafting into the room, but also because Zayn was stood directly in his line of sight. When Liam raised his cup to take a sip of his drink, his eyes landed right on Zayn and widened.

Harry couldn’t see Zayn’s face until he turned around. “I’m gonna go,” he said to Harry. Louis was off to the side, already chatting with someone Harry recognized from school and missing the whole ordeal.

Further ahead, Harry watched Liam push away from the girl.

“Zayn,” Harry tried to say. “Wait a min—”

“See you,” Zayn said sliding past him and back out the door, scoring the record for briefest party attendance in history. Harry looked up again, in search of Liam but he appeared to have fled the scene, leaving just his female companion with two drinks in her hands and a very confused look on her face.

Louis had drifted into the next room for a chat. Harry pulled his mobile from his back pocket and sent a text off to Niall.

 **8:17 pm:** Are you here?

 **8:17 pm:** _Just pulling up with Greg. Why?_

 **8:17 pm:** _Ya kiss Louis yet?_

 **8:18 pm:** No. And you’re jinxing it. Do you see Zayn outside?

 **8:18 pm:** _Nope._

 **8:19 pm:** _Wait. Yes! Where’s he going?_

 **8:19 pm:** He saw a girl flirting with Liam and took off.

 **8:20 pm:** _But where’s he going?_

 **8:20 pm:** Home maybe? Could you try stopping him? I’ll give him a drive back.

 **8:21 pm:** _I’ll do it._

 **8:21 pm:** _You stay and kiss Louis._

Niall followed this up with a string of kissy face emojis and the salsa dancer emoji.

“Where’s Zayn?”

Harry’s eyes flickered up from his phone and landed on Louis’ mouth. He was thrown off by how close they suddenly stood. “Um-” Harry locked his phone, hiding the emojis. “With Niall.”

Louis raised his brows. “Okay… You alright?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded, exhaling. He just couldn’t stop thinking about kissing him. “Good, yeah.”

Louis didn’t look any less concerned but he reached out and grabbed Harry’s forearm. “Let's go say hi to Stan."

It took them a while with so many people swarming the living room and then swarming Louis. It took even longer because Louis made an effort to introduce Harry to everyone, tugging him to his side by the arm.

And Harry appreciated it, even if he never knew what to say.

Stan seemed like a very enlightened version of himself, standing in the kitchen. He was more mellow and subdued than Harry remembered him. He took on no personas other than his own, donned no party hats and leaned against the worktop with an uncanny regality. In his palatial home, it was fitting. Harry would love to think that Stan had tapped into some good literature, maybe some good music, played a bit of chess, even. But it was more than likely just really good weed.

The minute Louis appeared, though, Stan was all smiles, laughing and throwing jokes to rival each of Louis’. They had a closeness Harry couldn't help but envy. It wasn't unheard of for a beta to _pursue_ an omega, but it didn’t seem like Stan was into Louis. Not with the way he smiled at Harry or hugged him like they’d know each other forever.

“Glad you could make it,” Stan said to him. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Harry said. “Kind of swore to my dad I wouldn’t drink.”

When Stan looked at him, it was clear he was making an effort not to laugh.

“Harry drove,” Louis said proudly.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Harry _drove_ ,” he said, high-pitched and mocking. He turned his attention back to Harry. “You could stay here if you don’t feel comfortable driving back. Take the room downstairs with Lou.”

And then he tossed Harry a wink that made him choke a little on his own saliva.

“I swore on my hair,” Harry said. “If I drink, it’ll fall out. That was the deal.”

Stan laughed. “Hardcore, I like it,” he said. “Lou, how about you?”

“Anything’s fine,” Louis paused his conversation to say.

“Harry, I’ll get you some punch,” Stan said. “Non-alcoholic.”

With Stan gone off to fetch them drinks and Louis chatting with kids from school, Harry was left to just stand there with his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t contribute much to the conversation because he had no idea what they were talking about. When Stan took too long to return and Harry had enough of hovering, he wandered off.

It was his hope that someday he'd feel comfortable at parties, that he'd be able to navigate this sort of environment with ease. But he still felt out of place, surrounded by people who could be aliens with how little he knew them.

Earlier, while Louis introduced Harry to person after person, some whom Harry had went to school with for most of his life, he tried not to feel jaded. It’s a funny thing shaking hands with someone you’ve “known” since Year 1.

Harry somehow ended up near the back door, looking outside in hopes of catching the full moon. He frowned seeing the sky was overcast.

He tugged his phone from his pocket and sent another text to Niall.

 **9:16 pm:** Did you get Zayn home safe?

 **9:17 pm:** _Nope. He’s sitting in the car with me._

 **9:17 pm:** Doing what?

 **9:18 pm:** _Just talking._

 **9:18 pm:** Don’t do anything stupid.

 **9:20 pm:** _Like what?_

 **9:21 pm:** Just think before you do.

He didn’t get a response to that, which left him worried. He was turning back to find Louis when he caught sight of a boy, kneeling by a set of bushes. Harry pushed the back door open and stepped out. The boy swung around when he heard the door open, his glasses nearly flying off his face.

“Sorry,” he said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. He glanced behind himself. “For what?”

The boy didn’t reply. He curled a hand protectively over his chest, over the suspicious lump beneath his jacket that moved when he touched it.

“What’ve got there?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed.

“I was just trying to help,” the boy said. “ _Ow_ , fuck.” He unzipped his jacket and out leaped a black cat, scurrying in zigzags off towards safety.

Harry looked at the boy like he’d just sprouted an extra head while he rubbed at a spot on his chest where he’d obviously been scratched. Because that’s what cats do when you trap them in uncomfortable places. They scratch.

“Help how?” Harry asked incredulously.

“It’s homeless,” the boy said. “I was trying to keep it warm.”

“You stuffed a stray cat into your coat,” Harry explained.

The boy shrugged, cheeks a little pink though maybe not entirely from the cold. He adjusted his glasses again and sniffed.

Harry’s expression softened. “I’m sure it appreciated the help and just has a funny way of showing it,” he said. Maybe it was even the cat he’d seen with Zayn the other night. Unlikely, but he understood the desire to help.

The boy’s eyes narrowed suddenly behind the reflective lens of his glasses. “You’re always so nice. It’s weird,” he said.

“Sorry?” Harry said confusedly.

“Alphas are supposed to be dickheads,” the boy explained.

“Well, yes,” Harry agreed. “But I’d like to think I’m not.”

“No, you’re not,” the boy agreed quietly.

“‘Always’?” Harry repeated. “How do you know I’m ‘ _always’_ nice?”

“We go to the same school,” the boy said. “You’re Harry Styles. You’re on the football team, you’re best friend is Niall Horan, and you’re dating Louis Tomlinson.”

Dating Louis Tomlinson.

Harry was grateful for the cover of night to hide the blush. “That’s a bit creepy,” he said honestly. “What was your name again?”

“I’m Cory Lucas.”

Harry thought his name and face were vaguely familiar. Maybe if he studied him long enough, he could pinpoint why. “Who said I’m dating Louis?” he asked.

“Everyone at school,” Cory replied.

“But they hardly know who I am,” Harry mumbled disbelievingly. “I just got introduced to people I’ve known since I was five.”

“They’re all liars, Harry. They know exactly who you are,” Cory said.

Harry was still skeptical, but less concerned with Cory’s theories and more with his own hypocrisy. The tables had turned. Cory went to school with him, knew him enough to call him a nice person, and yet Harry couldn’t remember him at all.

“I’m not dating Louis,” Harry said, feeling like he owed it to the boy to be honest.

“I get it. Is Louis making you keep it a secret?” Cory asked.

Harry’s brows creased. “No, we’re seriously not dating.”

“But you like him?”

“Yes,” Harry said, surprising even himself with how quickly he replied.

Cory shook his head. “See, that’s what I _don’t_ get,” he said. “Louis — and the rest of the ‘cool kids’ — they aren’t nice at all. But _you_ are. Especially for an alpha. And it kind of sucks. It’s not fair to the rest of us omegas, having all the good alphas stolen by not so nice people.” He exhaled, breath pluming in the cold air and pushed his ginger fringe away from his eyes. “That’s all.”

Harry was completely mystified by this kid’s every word. He thought he’d gotten better at the whole “detecting omegas” thing, first of all. But apparently not. Cory was small, short and kind of lanky, and now that he said it, Harry could see it in his stature. But that wasn’t the most pressing issue here.

“You’re wrong about Louis,” Harry said. “He’s- Louis, he’s- He’s lovely. He always has been.”

“But he hangs out with Liam Payne, doesn't he?” Cory countered. “How does that work out with Liam being so mean to you?”

“Not anymore. It had to be that way for a while.” Because Harry was too afraid to go after Louis. “I couldn’t even protect myself, so I couldn’t be expected to protect him either,” Harry explained. “But it’s different now. I might have a chance with him now.”

He just had to kiss him. Or at least try.

All this talk about Louis only made Harry miss him. Why was he standing there pouring his heart out to a stranger when he should say these things to Louis himself? He’d let the pressure of socializing keep him feeling isolated but he had to get inside now and try again. For Louis, he could.

“Sorry, I have to—”

“You let me borrow your pencil once,” Cory said quickly. He gave another push to the bridge of his glasses and looked down at the tops of his trainers as he spoke.

"Did I?” Harry said.

Cory nodded. His tone was suddenly soft and tentative. “Last year. And I never gave it back. I’d just started school there and we went on that field trip. To the museum, remember? We had to fill out those surveys before we could get back on the bus. And I needed a pencil. You were one of the last ones there, but I was scared to ask you to borrow yours because, you know, alphas are dickheads and all that. But somehow you just knew. And you handed me your pencil and you smiled and walked away.”

Harry glanced towards the back door again, just in time to see Louis walk past the entrance to the kitchen, looking left and right. Looking for _him_ , Harry thought.

“So anyway,” Cory said. Harry forced himself to focus on what he was saying. “I’ve wanted to say thank you for a while, so thank you. I felt like I owed you that. Because you aren’t like most alphas. You’re nice. You had a nice smile too.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think this kid had a crush on him or something. Because people hardly ever remembered pencils they borrowed and they hardly ever made it their mission to thank the lender after the fact. Then again, people also didn’t have crushes on Harry.

But maybe (hopefully) Louis did.

“Louis’ a very lucky lad,” Cory said, smiling, his cheeks rosier now.

Harry smiled, opening his mouth to thank him again. But then the door opened and Louis was standing there, looking at Harry. “Jesus, there you are,” he said. “What are you—?” His eyes landed on Cory, running over his body from head to toe.

Louis had always been better at picking up on someone’s sex than most. He told Harry recently that he thought it was a gift, that he could look at people and tell what they were, could even do it for babies.

All Harry knew was that gifts were meant to make people happy. And based on the tight set of his jaw when Louis realized Cory was an omega, he didn’t seem happy at all.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked Harry, lifting his brows.

"No, it’s okay," Harry said, but Louis missed his reassuring smile because his eyes were on Cory again.

Louis bit his lip, taking a step back into the house. “Well, I don't really like standing in the cold, so. I’ll be in here.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry said. He glanced back at Cory. “Uh, you can keep the pencil.” He didn’t know if Cory still had the pencil but it seemed like a nice thing to say. He smiled. “It was good to meet you.”

Cory threw up his hand in a little wave.

Harry stepped back into the house behind Louis, watching him cautiously.

Louis turned to face him. “I don’t know how Stan will feel about you making a move on his cousin,” he said. “Just so you know.”

“I didn’t know that was Stan’s cousin,” Harry said, which was the wrong answer when he should have been denying the ‘making a move’ bit.

Louis looked at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You actually…” He trailed off. A beat of silence passed, and then he straightened his spine and lifted his chin a bit. “Never mind.”

“Wait, Louis—”

Stan reappeared right then, dragging someone along with him that he wanted them to meet. Harry stood there, trying to participate in the conversation but the tension between him and Louis was hard to ignore. He responded when he was addressed, but it was never Louis who addressed him. Instead, while Louis remained at his side, he refused to acknowledge at him at all.

+

**14 February 2016**

There was another toilet upstairs, but on the way, Harry spotted Louis again, this time in the kitchen. A group of people were scattered there, their eyes trained on one girl with a broad, excited smile on her freckled face.

Louis was up on the kitchen worktop, cup in his hands, swinging his legs back and forth like pendulums. He reached up to push his fringe away from his eyes and glanced at Harry and smiled.

“I dare you…” the girl began to say. “To make out with…” She looked around the kitchen, wiggling her fingers together mischievously.

Louis rolled his eyes, looking wholly unimpressed.

“Jessica,” the girl said at last pointing at another girl leaning against the counter with a beer can in her hand. For a second, Harry wondered who was being dared and then Louis downed the rest of his drink and shrugged.

“Come on then, love,” he said.

Harry watched the girl, Jessica, push away from the counter, a little smile on her face. A few of the people standing nearby leaned closer, eyes eager for a good show. Harry didn’t lean closer but he didn’t look away either, not when the girl stood between Louis’ legs, not when she inclined her face to his, not when their lips met.

Harry didn’t think he wanted to see Louis kissing anyone else. And yet when they started, he couldn’t look away, couldn’t help how quickly he became mesmerized by the glide of their mouths or a brief flash of tongue. The rule was that Louis had to kiss her for at least 10 seconds. Around the 5th second, his eyes fluttered open and found Harry and stayed on him. When the girl stepped away, Louis’ eyes flickered down to Harry’s crotch, a triumphant smirk gracing his moist lips. Harry looked down at himself and his face burned like it was a second from bursting into flame. He held his cup over the tent in his trousers and hurried away.

+

Harry barricaded himself in the loo for a nice wank to mental recaps of Louis slipping his tongue into that girl's mouth. His pretty blue eyes flashed in Harry’s memory like comets zipping through the sky, here one second, gone the next. The combination of Sunset Punch and arousal made Harry dizzy. He came with a whimper over the sound of someone knocking, urging him to “hurry up”.

He felt loads better afterwards (pun not intended) and came out with a renewed sense of determination to make it through the rest of the night in one piece. He sat down on the couch next to Niall where it was relatively safe and dug ‘round a bowl of candy hearts in search of the yellow and green ones.

Around ten pm, kids started heading home. Greg stumbled off with a girl he'd been wooing since they'd arrived, leaving Harry and Niall to beg rides from one of Greg’s sober friends. They’d finally managed to convince a girl to take them but only once she’d snogged her girlfriend sufficiently.

“Gonna run to the loo,” Niall murmured while they waited.

“I’ll be here,” Harry said.

The make-out sess was getting hot and heavy, the two girls knocking things over in the kitchen, growling periodically. He kept his back to them. Only seconds passed before Niall came back.

“That was quick—”

“Come ‘ere,” Niall interrupted. “I think it’s Louis.” He nodded in the direction he’d just come. Harry didn’t question him further, following him to the basement. The light still wasn't on over the stairwell but enough light streamed in from the hallway to illuminate Zayn and Louis on the steps below.  

"I can't carry you by myself, Louis," Zayn was saying. His voice cut off when Harry and Niall stepped into the light, their shadows cast down the steps.

"Is he okay?" Harry asked stupidly. Obviously Louis wasn't okay with how he’d draped himself over Zayn's lap, humming off-key to the song still playing on the stereo upstairs.

"Fuck, this song is fucking banger," Louis mumbled, snapping his fingers in the air. Niall pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing. “Sooo good.”

"He’s just drunk," Zayn said. “Obviously.”

"How much did he have to drink?" Harry asked.

"A thousand," Louis replied to him. And then he seemed to get an idea. “A thousand miles. Sing it, Zee.” He hummed and tapped on an imaginary drum. “ _If I could fall into the sky…do you think time would pass me by…?_ ” He cupped Zayn’s cheek. “ _‘Cause you know I’d walk a thousand_ fucking _miles...just to save you._ ” He flicked Zayn on the nose and then his face broke out in a grin. He started to laugh, high-pitched and wheezy and Harry’s favorite laugh ever.

“Thank you, Lou,” Zayn said, petting his head. He sighed, looking at Harry and Niall again. "I can't take him home like this. Mum'll kill us both."

“Where’s he gonna sleep?” Harry asked.

“Here, I’d think. There’s a spare room down here. I’ll have to ask Stan,” Zayn said.

“And you’ll stay with him?” Harry asked.

Zayn shook his head. “I have to get Liam home. He had a bit too much to drink too.”

Harry didn’t like the idea of leaving Louis with Stan who was equally as drunk and his mum who was probably well on her way to being drunk with one of her many suitors.

But Harry didn’t have any say in the matter either.

"So, how can we help?" Niall asked.

“If you could just get him to the room downstairs,” Zayn began. “I can’t carry him on my own.”

"Sure, yeah," Harry said, descending the stairs ahead of Niall. They both wrapped one arm around Louis’ waist and hoisted him to his feet, wrapping Louis’ arms over their shoulders.

"Harry?" Louis murmured, pressing his face into the bend of Harry’s neck.

Harry looked at Niall with half-wide eyes.

Niall smiled. “Not my name, mate.”

He was the worst.

“Yes?” Harry replied to Louis.

Louis sniffed loudly. “Are you wearing cologne?”

Harry couldn’t make his mouth move even if he wanted to, his tongue gone tacky. He felt Zayn’s eyes burning holes into the back of his neck the whole way down. They got Louis to the spare room with its large bed and an en-suite. Louis flopped down on the mattress. His head fell against a pillow, soft brown hair spilling over the cotton.

"I'm going to go find Stan,” Zayn said. “Could you just stay with him for a bit?"

"’Course," Niall said.

Zayn hesitated for a second. "I'll be right back," he said, then he left the room.

"I'll get him a cup of water," Niall said.

Harry nodded. "And paracetamol if you can find it.”

He heard Niall searching around in the en-suite a second later.

"Harry Styles," Louis mumbled. Even when he was drunk, Harry’s name on Louis’ lips sounded like poetry.

Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, keeping enough room between his body and Louis’. “I’m here.”

“I’m glad,” Louis said.

Harry licked his lips. "Do you feel sick?"

"No," Louis answered. "But I’m upset."

"Why?"

“You don’t talk to me,” Louis said, mouth half-buried in the pillow. “We’d be good friends, you and me. We’d get along, yeah?”

It felt like Christmas Eve all over again. And then Harry felt sad. He didn’t talk to Louis, that was true. But every day, it was the one he wanted to do most.

He frowned at his lap, running his thumb over his palm idly. “I'm sorry,” he said.

“Me too,” Louis whispered.

“In the future, though, right?” Harry asked. “That’s what you said.”

When Louis smiled, his whole face seemed to radiant warmth and light. “Reminds me of that poem you wrote last year.” Suddenly, he was pushing himself upright, blinking sleepily at him. “Did I tell you I liked that poem?”

How did he even remember that?

Harry blinked. “Um. Yeah, you told me,” he said quietly.

“Well I’m telling you again. It was good," Louis said, tossing his fringe out of his eyes. His hand fell on Harry's thigh to keep himself from falling over. “You wrote it about someone, didn’t you?”

Harry didn’t respond. He glanced at Louis’ hand on his thigh and then again at the door. He was positive that Niall had found the paracetamol by now. He was probably hovering behind the door, trying not to interrupt them.

“Fuck Liam,” Louis blurted suddenly.

Harry huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”

“Did you write it about me?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“Your poem, about the future, was it about me...?” Louis asked quietly.

Now would be a great time for an interruption.

"No,” Louis whispered. “Wait, wait. Don't tell me.” He shook his head. “I’ll just pretend you did."

Harry couldn’t move at all. Louis’ eyes were devastatingly vibrant, even as bleary as they were. Harry would love to drown in them.

“Let’s just pretend,” Louis said with a drowsy smile and heavy-lidded eyes, leaning forward. His head fell on Harry’s shoulder, his breath pluming on Harry’s collarbones. He inhaled the flowery scent of Louis’ hair and cherished this moment for whatever it was.

They’d probably never be this close again.

And then Zayn stepped into the room. “What happened?” he asked, hurrying forward, peeling Louis off Harry’s shoulder.

“Nothing. He’s just—“ Harry stood. “He fell asleep.”

Zayn glanced at him and Harry caught a glimpse of his reflection in the long mirror on the back of the cupboard door. Niall was stood there, looking at him too. And the look on all their faces was the same. Harry was beet red, his face, his neck, his ears. He looked like he was about to burst into flame. God, he hoped so. Maybe that would end the pain caused by the raw fissure where his heart had been.

Harry walked to the door, glancing back to look at Louis once more and finding Zayn’s eyes on him.

“Thanks, Harry,” Zayn said from his place on the bed. “And you too, Niall.”

Niall deposited the water and medicine on the table beside the bed. “No problem,” he said.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Harry said, his eyes falling on Louis’ sleeping face again. If he were more like Liam or Greg, he might have stayed. If he were a different alpha, he would never leave.

But there was no place for him beside Louis and there never really would be.

 _Let’s just pretend_ , Louis had murmured.

Sadly, that wouldn’t work for them.

+

**22 December 2017**

**9:44 pm:** _Where ya at?_

 **9:44 pm:** Kitchen.

 **9:44 pm:** _Kissing Louis?_

 **9:45 pm:** If I was kissing Louis, I wouldn’t be texting you. I think I pissed him off.

 **9:45 pm:** _How did you manage that?_

 **9:46 pm:** He thought I was going after someone else.

 **9:46 pm:** _Were you?_

 **9:47 pm:** Seriously?

 **9:47 pm:** _Right. Sorry._

 **9:47 pm:** _I need you to find Louis and tell him I'm outside with Zayn._

 **9:47 pm:** _He’s drunk as a fish._

 **9:48 pm:** What the hell, Niall. I thought you were just talking!

 **9:48 pm:** _Forgot to say with alcohol. Sorry!!_

 **9:48 pm:** _Find Lou please! Be quick!_

Harry groaned, pushing away from the worktop where he’d been munching on pretzels and playing Sudoku on his phone. He didn’t know where Louis had run off to. The last time he’d seen him, he’d been talking to another group of people, taking a drag off someone’s cigarette, and avoiding Harry’s gaze.

Harry slid his phone into his pocket and found him minutes later sitting on the arm of a sofa.

“Lou," Harry said when he was close enough.

Louis’ eyes met his, wary but attentive.

The alpha standing nearby looked at Harry like he was a stain on a toilet seat.

“What is it?” Louis asked evenly.

Harry could have just said that Zayn needed him, could have explained the situation, and that alone would have gotten Louis to come with him. But he didn’t feel like pleading. He was tired. Of playing this game with Louis. Of having to explain himself when they were so close.

He reached out and took Louis’ wrist. “Come with me,” he said.

Louis stumbled behind him, wordlessly abandoning the people he’d been talking to. They drew attention as they drifted through the crowd hand in hand. Louis didn’t try to pull away and only spoke once they’d reached the door.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To find Niall and Zayn,” Harry finally said as they stepped out into the night.

“Oh,” Louis said, and he almost sounded disappointed. “Are they alright?”

“Zayn’s really drunk,” Harry said.

Louis looked around in the dark. By now, he’d let go of Harry’s hand, rubbing at his arms to keep warm. “Where are they?”

Just then, Niall’s voice cut into the night. “Over here,” he called.

Zayn was sitting in the passenger seat of Greg’s car. The door was open and his legs were hanging out over a strip of dried grass near the pavement. His head was against the headrest, dark hair falling over his face, and he looked to be asleep.

Louis crouched down in front of him. “Z,” he called quietly.

“Already tried that,” Niall said, more to Harry since Louis was focused completely on Zayn. “He just keeps mumbling things I can’t understand.”

Zayn was currently doing just that. Louis inclined his ear, trying to make out his words to no avail.

“What did he have to drink?” Louis asked, brushing his thumb across Zayn’s hand.

“Uh--” Niall scratched his neck. “Gin? Some whiskey, too.”

“What the fuck, Niall,” Harry breathed. “Where’d he even get that?”

“Greg keeps flasks of the shit in the glove box.”

Louis shook his head, rubbing at his eyelids.

“You should have cut him off,” Harry said to Niall.

“I know, mate. I know, just- He started crying, a lot, and I thought it would help,” Niall explained, voice small and unsure.

Louis sighed, looking at Zayn again, a frown on his face.

“Mum'll kill me if I bring him home like this,” Louis said more to himself. Harry didn’t think it was a good time to mention it but he was struck by déjà vu. That night over a year ago, Zayn and Louis’ positions had been reserved.

"Let's get him inside,” Louis said. “It's frigid out here." Harry stepped forward immediately, wrapping one of Zayn’s arms around his shoulders and helping him out of the car. Louis shut the car door and then began to help Harry support his brother's weight.

“Um. I can just—” Harry stopped talking and ducked down to wrap his other arm beneath Zayn’s thighs. He hoisted him up.

“I've got him,” he said, cradling Zayn in his arms while his head lolled against his shoulder.

Louis watched him for a second, something odd his gaze, then he blinked and looked away.

“We’ll take him to the spare room,” he said, heading back toward the house.

A few people looked at them curiously when they were inside once again. The way Louis’ clenched his jaw, it was clear he was suppressing the urge to tell them all off. “Could you ask Stan if it’s alright me and Zayn kip here tonight?” Louis asked Niall. "And proceed with caution. He's probably snogging someone in his room."

Niall didn't laugh like he usually would. Chances were he still felt bad about letting Zayn fuck himself up. And yeah, Harry would probably have felt bad too. He shot Niall a reassuring smile as he hurried away. Louis glanced at Harry. “Follow me.”

Harry adjusted Zayn in his arms and then started after Louis. They headed downstairs, past two tipsy kids sitting on the stairwell. Harry walked carefully, a little terrified that he would trip and land on top of Zayn. If Louis was annoyed with Harry now, there was no telling what kind of rage crushing his only brother would bring about.

Louis led him to the spare room and Harry lowered Zayn onto the large bed while Louis headed into the en-suite and held a cup under the tap, filling it with cold water.

“Could you find paracetamol?” Louis asked.  

“Sure,” Harry said, leaving the room to scour the en-suite. He’d just found it when Louis stepped up to the door.

Harry handed it to him. “Here you go,” he said with a smile.

“Thank you." Louis took it from him but lingered there for a second, turning the little bottle of paracetamol in his hand. “Do you remember Valentine’s Day last year?” he asked suddenly. "In this room?"

Harry shut the medicine cabinet slowly and turned to face Louis. He licked his lips, coaxing them into moving. “Yeah, I do. You?”

“Bits and pieces, hard as it is to believe,” Louis said. “I was so pissed.”

Harry’s smile was small and cautious.

“I asked you about your poem, I think,” Louis said quietly. “Do you remember? From Year 10. It was the one about the future.”

Harry nodded again, swallowing around the football-sized lump growing in his throat. Why hadn't he brought his inhaler inside? “Yeah, you did," he said. “I do.”

“I really liked that poem,” Louis added, his gaze flickering over Harry’s face. He turned suddenly and walked back to the bed to sit beside Zayn. Harry exhaled the breath he'd been holding, shutting his eyes for a second, while Louis began murmuring to Zayn in the next room.

Louis patted Zayn's shoulder and gave him a gentle shake. “Zayn,” he said. “Come on. Wake up, love.”

Zayn groaned.

“Are you feeling sick yet?” Louis asked him.

Zayn hummed a little noise and this time he moved, rolling onto his back, squinting a little at the ceiling. “Feel great,” he mumbled, his voice sounding warbled like he spoke through water. And then he shut his eyes and proceeded to drift back into sleep.

Louis sighed, turning him back onto his side so that he wouldn’t drown on his vomit when he did eventually get sick. He shook two paracetamol tablets into his palm and placed them on the bedside table next to the glass of water. He ran his fingers through Zayn’s dark hair, leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead and then he stood up, directing his next words at Harry.

"You don’t have to stay here. if you want to get back to the party,” he said while removing Zayn's boots. "I think we're fine now, so..."

“Do you want me to go back?” Harry asked tentatively.

Louis moved past him and back into the loo. “Well, I wouldn't want you to disappoint Cory, you know?” he said. “I’m sure he likes you. Bet you could get his number if you wanted.”

Harry took a deep breath. "Why would I want his number, Louis? I don't even know him."

Louis stored the paracetamol away and then shot him a look. "What’s that got to do with anything? He still likes you,” he said. “Trust me. I have an eye for these things."

“Do you?” Harry asked incredulously. He stepped into the doorway of the loo, sort of trapping Louis. He felt oddly satisfied with how Louis took a startled half-step back and then attempted to play it off, leaning against the sink and crossing his arms.

“I do,” Louis said. “And he definitely fancies you. I’d put money on it.”

"I don't care if he fancies me,” Harry said.

Louis rolled his eyes. "You’re going to have to date at some point, Harry.”

Harry’s annoyance flared.

“Could you move?” Louis said. “I need to see to Zayn.”

“No,” Harry said, and Louis’ eyes met his. “Not until you listen to me. You aren’t— You’re not listening to me. You never listen.”

Louis snorted. “I’m a fine listener—”

“Louis, please shut up,” Harry said and Louis fell silent, his eyes widening a bit.

"I don't care about Cory. I’m sure he’s a great person, yeah. But I just— All I care about is you. That's it," Harry said. “It’s just you.”

Louis pushed a hand through his fringe and shook his head like he didn’t understand, like he was refusing to. “Harry—”

“Louis, shut up,” Harry said. “I’m not finished.”

This boy frustrated him. He made Harry restless. He made him weary. He made him want to cry sometimes and scream. But he was his first thought in the morning and his last at night. He was the first person Harry wanted to tell a joke to. His laugh was Harry’s favorite. His touch, his smell, his voice. Loving him was painful, but the fact was Harry loved him.

Harry loved him.

He knew that like he knew the elven alphabet and the law of thermodynamics and simple arithmetic.

But it wasn’t the right time to say so. His hands were shaking enough as is and a confession of that caliber might be too much too soon. Baby steps, he told himself. So he went with the next best thing.

"I like you so much, Louis,” Harry said. “Just you.”

He felt as if he'd just thrown his heart on the floor at Louis' feet, his now to do with as he pleased. He could step on it, or pick it up, or spit on it, or hold it close. And no matter what Harry would probably throw it at his feet again and again.

He didn’t dare look at himself in the mirror behind Louis. He knew his face was probably cherry red. But so was Louis', a blush creeping up to his ears. He looked down at his feet, drawing a quiet breath between his lips.

“You had to know that,” Harry said.

Louis bit his bottom lip hard.

Harry groaned. “Please say something.”

Louis lifted his brows. “Oh, I’m allowed to talk now?”

Harry sighed heavily, pushing both hands through his hair. “Jesus—”

“How am I supposed to know that if you don’t tell me?” Louis said sharply, but he looked so small and unsure. He looked for the first time like an omega, which did things to Harry, made him feel big. He took a step closer.

“You’re such a bloody liar, Lou. You knew,” Harry said. “You’ve known for ages.”

“You should have _told_ me.”

“I’m telling you now,” Harry said. “The poem— Of course, it's about you.”

Louis looked at him, at Harry’s eyes and his mouth. His eyelids sank to half-mast. He licked his lips. “I fucking loved that poem,” he said.

And Harry kissed him. It was an unpracticed, clumsy collision of lips and teeth but it electrified Harry all the same and drew a surprised moan out of Louis that Harry would document and replay in his head for the rest of his life. Louis was suddenly grabbing the material of Harry’s black shirt and tugging him closer, Harry accidentally knocking their foreheads together.

“Sorry,” he breathed, his heart bouncing around in his chest.

“You should be,” Louis said. He moved backward, climbing up onto the counter, and tugged Harry between his legs. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”

For a second, they just hovered in each other’s space. Harry’s gaze went from Louis’ lips to the now deep dark blue of his round eyes and neither one of them looked away. Harry turned his face a fraction of an inch, so his nose met Louis’ cheek and he breathed him in like the last breath before plunging into the ocean. The rich earthy scent of Louis’ body, of sweat and slick, flooded him. And Harry was done for.

They kissed again and again and again. Louis clutched Harry’s clothing a little tighter, hooked his ankles behind Harry’s thighs and his tongue was suddenly there to meet Harry’s, slipping into his mouth.

The dull thrum of party music and Zayn's quiet snores dimmed until there were no sounds to be heard except Louis’ small puffs of breath and the wet slide of their lips each time they met. That was all Harry _wanted_ to hear. Whatever the afterlife looked like, he hoped it was this.

When they had parted to breathe and their foreheads were resting together, Louis murmured, “Took you long enough.”

Harry smiled. “Sorry,” he said. But hopefully, their next kiss made up for the wait.


	14. Chapter 14

**23 December 2017**

The Tomlinson-Maliks were celebrities of a sort. People knew each one of them and most of them got gossip spreading like fire on dry land. The week before Christmas, the person everyone wanted to chat about was Louis. Or more specifically, Louis _and_ Harry.

 _“Did you kiss Louis at Stan’s party?”_ read the message from Sam on the football team. It was noon on Saturday and Harry was still half-asleep and needed a round of rapid blinks before he could read it carefully. Even then he couldn’t believe someone besides Louis or Niall had messaged him.

Another message waited from Kenneth Fleming, the kid Harry was 95% sure had stolen his lunch money one year. He didn't know Kenneth had his number or how he’d gotten it in the first place.

 **2:16 am:** _Duuuuuude! You and Tomlinson?!? tell me that shit’s true._

 **12:03 pm:** Who is this?

 **12:17 pm:** _It’s Ken Fleming! From school!_

And then Harry stopped responding. Because no. Maybe when Ken returned his lunch money, they could have a chat. Maybe then Harry might deem him worthy of hearing all about how soft Louis' lips were, softer than rose petals, soft and firm and warm all at the same time, and how Louis moaned and pressed his tongue against Harry's and gave as good as he got.

Harry kind of wanted to brag about it. Just not to Kenneth fucking Fleming.

Stan friend-requested him on Facebook and sent a few wonky face emojis Harry didn't know how to respond to. He accepted his friend request and the two others that awaited him. One from a girl Harry was quite positive Louis had introduced him to last night. The other from Cory Lucas.

Later, he got another two texts from numbers he didn’t have and didn't think he needed.

He didn't know how to respond to any of them. Yeah, he’d kissed Louis. (That still didn’t sound real.) But that was all. In hindsight, they should’ve shut the door to the loo. Niall had walked into the bedroom, and it was hard to miss Louis and Harry, particularly with how clumsily they pulled apart. Harry lingered in the loo, trying to catch his breath and settle down before heading home with Niall.

They didn’t kiss again, unless they counted the emojis blowing kisses they sent before bed. And that was where Harry’s boldness ended. He thought he’d made the ultimate gesture that night, but so much still felt uncertain.

And he couldn’t wait until after New Year’s when they were back to school to have that certainty. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow even, but he would. He’d wait until Christmas Eve, until Louis’ birthday and then—

He hadn’t figured the rest out yet.

+

**24 December 2017**

Of course, in order to carry out his master plan, he needed to escape his mum. And in order to escape his mum, he needed to finish delivering Christmas biscuits and pies to the neighbors.

"One more down to the Carneys," Anne said.

Harry rested his forehead in his palms. "You said one more two hours ago," he mumbled. "Gem could take this one."

"No, she very well can't," Gemma chimed in from her place on the couch. She honestly hadn’t moved from that spot since she came home on Sunday. And okay, university was stressful and she’d needed the break, but this just wasn’t fair. Gemma smiled at him. "It's your face they love to see. Not mine."

Harry peeled himself off of the table. "One more?" he asked to his mum.

"Just one," she smiled.

Harry delivered three more pies before his mum finally declared their work complete.

Harry left the kitchen in case the sight of him inspired another task for him to do and tugged his phone from his pocket, punching in Louis’ number before his nerves could convince him to do otherwise.

Louis answered on the second ring.

“Hello,” he said, voice laden with Christmas cheer. “Happy Louis Day.”

God, Harry missed him.

“Hi,” Harry said warmly. “Happy Louis Day. Or Happy Birthday. How’s it so far?”

“Same as usual. Baking cookies with my sisters. Wrapping a few presents,” Louis said. “I’m officially seventeen. I can’t complain.”

"How are you?" Louis asked after Harry was silent for too long.

Harry shot a glance at his mum and sister in the kitchen. “Good. Do you think...you could take a break? Maybe come to the park for a bit?”

He could hear Louis moving away from the rest of his family, the sounds in the background dimming until they were indiscernible. “If I sneak out, yeah,” Louis answered finally. “I can be there in five minutes.”

“Can you sneak out?” Harry asked, feeling villainous for even asking.

“Hang on,” Louis said. The line went silent for a whole minute. Harry waited, tapping his foot nervously, drumming his fingers on his hip. Louis came back to the line, sounding a little breathless, “Just did. See you in ten?”

Harry got the box he’d packed earlier that morning, a simple cardboard box that he’d cut the top off of and covered in red gift-wrap. He ran with it in hand to the park, stumbling only once.

Seconds later, Louis came jogging towards him, his breath fogging up in front of his face, his scarf thrown haphazardly around his neck.

He came to a stop in front of Harry, panting for air. “Hi,” he breathed. His eyes shifted to the box in Harry’s hands. “What’s that?”

“It’s for you,” Harry said holding it out to him.

Louis smiled taking the box from him. With his free hand, he held out a red and gold striped gift bag. “This is for you. Would have given it to you in school like a normal person. But you insisted on us being rebels.”

Harry took the bag from him. “A little rebellion is necessary sometimes," he mumbled.

Louis shot him a glance, his eyebrows raised. “We’ve been spending too much time together. Sounds like something I would say,” he said, setting the box on the ground and stooping in front of it. Harry had to agree, except there was no such a thing as "spending too much time" with Louis.

Louis reached back into the box, past the tissue paper and tinsel Harry had thrown in to distract him, and pulled out three cans of acrylic paint, cradling them all in his arms and glancing up at Harry.

“Are we looking to get into a bit of vandalism?” he asked curiously.

Harry smirked. “Not exactly. It’s for your skateboard. The old one in your basement with the bad paint job and the broken wheel,” he said. Louis looked surprised that Harry remembered. “I thought maybe when it warms up, we could paint it. I looked up how to do it and it's not hard at all. And there are wheels in there too, so we could replace the old ones.”

Louis’ eyes flickered over the paint cans. He reached back into the box and pulled out the smaller box of wheels. He still hadn't spoken and Harry was maybe a little thrown that. He should’ve just gone with a new skateboard. Gemma had said so while they were at the mall yesterday. But Harry had opted for the paint and the primer and the wheels because this way, at least it was something they could do together.

Gemma tended to be right about everything.

“Um-” Harry cleared his throat. “I don't know, kind of seems silly now.”

Louis looked up at him again. “It’s not silly at all. This is really, really thoughtful. I'm not— I mentioned the skateboard like three months ago, I don't even know how you remembered,” he said. “I’d love to do this when it warms up.” He placed the supplies back into the box. “And I feel like my gifts are kind of shit now.”

“You didn’t even have to get me anything,” Harry said.

“Neither did you,” Louis replied. He stood up. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Harry opened the gift bag and reached in. Louis had also stuffed it with tissue paper.

"There are multiple gifts in there so if one thing seems stupid, just keep going," Louis informed him. Harry doubted he'd find any of it stupid.

The first thing he pulled out was a beaded necklace.

"That’s not from me," Louis said, hands up like he was surrendering. Clearly, he would be commentating the whole unwrapping. "My sister's made it and forced me to give it to you. Keep going."

Harry smiled, looping the necklace over his head and dropping it over his coat. "Tell them thank you."

Louis reached out to touch the necklace, rubbing the beads between his fingers. "I will. It looks a lot better when you're wearing it."

Harry's eyes lingered on Louis' smile and then he reached into the gift bag again. He pulled out a book next, or what he thought was a book. He wasn’t sure.

"It's a journal,” Louis said. “You probably already have one, but-" He stopped talking abruptly and shrugged.

Harry wondered how many people ever got to see insecure Louis. How many people would believe that Louis ever even felt insecure. How many people would love this side of him as much as Harry did.  

The journal was leather bound, Harry thought, and old-fashioned with a leather string you tied around it to keep it closed. There were also swirling marks carved into the exterior.

"This is beautiful," Harry said. "I don't have a journal. I just have this spiral notebook I write in sometimes."

"Oh. Well, good," Louis said, rocking back on his heels.

Harry kind of wanted to kiss him. And by kind of, he meant that if he didn't muster up the courage to kiss him at some point tonight, he would go home, crawl under the Christmas tree and die.

"Should I keep going?" Harry asked.

"Mhmm," Louis nodded.

Harry handed him the notebook to hold onto. He reached back into the bag and pulled out a scarf. It was a light blue colour similar to the one he'd seen Louis wear a few times, and so soft.

"I'd say I made it myself. But my sisters helped. Or I mean- I guess they did the majority of the work. But I finished it," Louis said.

"You knit?" Harry asked him.

"My mum taught me," Louis said, looking down at his shoes again. "I'm still getting the hang of it. But it's kind of fun. Relieves stress, I heard."

Harry wanted to kiss him.

"And just think," Louis said. "One day, I'll be able to make you a jumper."

“Would this be an okay time to kiss you?” Harry blurted.

Louis stopped talking. Harry felt bad for interrupting him. Later, he'd ask Louis to tell him all about knitting and how much he was enjoying it.

Louis shrugged, smirked. “You don’t really have to ask.”

Harry exhaled a nervous breath and stepped closer. Louis stayed put, pulling his hands from his pockets.  Harry lifted his free hand to touch Louis’ cheek gently, thumb brushing over his soft skin. Louis’ hands came to rest on top of Harry’s waist as Harry leaned in.

They kissed, very slowly, gradually warming their cold lips. It wasn’t as frenzied as their first. This one was a little cautious and tentative, like trekking over ice.

When they broke away, Louis smiled and then laughed for no clear reason.

They clearly didn’t know what to say afterwards, just smiling at each other. Harry had to leave soon. They both did. It was cold and eventually, someone in their respective homes would realize they were missing.

"Thank you," Harry said. For the gifts, for the kiss, for existing.

"You're very welcome," Louis murmured. He reached into his pocket, withdrew his phone and glanced at the screen. “My mum is onto me.” He leaned down to pick his box up. "I should probably go."

“Yeah, me too," Harry said.

"But I’ll see you soon?” Louis asked.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed.

Louis smiled, bouncing a little on his toes. “Okay.”

Harry just watched him. His cheeks felt a little sore from smiling.

“Bye, then,” Louis said.

“Bye,” Harry said. “Have a good Christmas.”

“You too,” Louis said. Neither of them moved. “Bye.”

Harry waved. “Bye.”

Louis lingered still and then laughed. “We’re being ridiculous,” he said. "Maybe…if you kiss me again…we’ll both find the strength to leave?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “Why don't you kiss me and find out?”

Harry laughed and stepped close. He kissed him again. Louis dropped the box between them and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck.

"Ready to leave yet?” he asked when they broke apart.

“Not at all.” Harry shook his head, his nose brushing Louis’. “I just want to kiss you again.”

“That works too,” Louis murmured. Their lips met again. Harry wondered if this was how it would always be. If life from here on out would be measured by the moments he was kissing Louis and the moments he was waiting to do it again.

Louis' phone vibrated between them and Louis sighed, detaching himself.

"I can walk you home," Harry said. "If you want?"

“Yeah.” Louis lifted his box again, smiling. "Come on before my mum sends Zayn out looking for me."

They talked of their families and their plans for Christmas and New Years in the short stretch of time from the park to Louis’ home. Harry walked Louis all the way to his door and even then, he still didn't feel like leaving. He'd been gone now for at least thirty minutes and his mum would figure things out soon enough, especially once his aunts and uncles started arriving with their children.

But he loved listening to Louis talk. He loved kissing him and holding him and being near him. And he hated to think about going without all that for another week.

"I guess I'll see you in the New Year," Louis said, echoing Harry’s thoughts.

Harry’s smile was small. "Don't forget to thank your sisters for me, for the necklace."

"I won't forget," Louis said. He glanced at Harry's mouth again, biting his own. He set the box down by the door and then he moved in again, cupping Harry’s face this time, then sliding his arms around his shoulders. This was more reminiscent of Saturday night. Their tongues met and Louis’ fingers curling in Harry’s hair.

Louis disconnected their lips to press a kiss to Harry's cheek, then to his jaw, making his way to his ear, where he sucked gently on his earlobe. Harry whimpered embarrassingly. He leaned into Louis’ mouth, eyes slipping closed.

“You can touch me, you know?” Louis said into his ear. Harry didn't understand. He _was_ touching him, his hands splayed across Louis’ back. Louis met his gaze as he reached behind himself and set his hands on top of Harry’s. Then he slid both their hands down to his bum. “Get your hands full.”

Harry opened his mouth to speak or say a prayer.

Louis leaned in again, his lips brushing Harry’s jaw. He buried his nose in his neck. “You smell good.”

Harry had a sudden terrifying urge to growl.

Louis kissed his neck and then sucked, probably leaving a bruise Harry would have to hide later. It was all so much. Harry was overwhelmed and he hardly felt like himself. He’d never felt this hot or this aroused or this needy. Not even during a rut. He closed his hands over Louis’ bum and marvelled at how soft and firm he felt. He’d dreamt about Louis’ arse a shameful number of times, had imagined how it would feel in his very hands, but his imagination had never done him injustice.

“There you go,” Louis said quietly, pulling away from his neck. He looked at Harry from beneath his lashes and then leaned in, pushing their mouths back together, his tongue trailing along Harry’s bottom lip. Harry opened his mouth and let him lick inside.

His eyelashes tickled Harry’s cheeks whenever they changed the angle of their faces and Harry wanted to laugh— at that feeling and at this moment that gave new meaning to a “Christmas miracle”.

But Christmas could wait. Harry wanted to stay right here forever.

And then the door opened and there stood Jay Malik, wearing a Christmas jumper and a very, _very_ unhappy look on her face.

Like someone — Jay actually — had dumped cold water on them, they flew apart. Harry discreetly tugged his coat downwards. Louis’ face was flushed, his lips bright red and damp. He cleared his throat and looked at his feet.

“Hello again, Harry,” Jay said.

Harry cleared his throat. “Hello.”

Jay ran her eyes over the both of them. “Would you like to come in for tea?” she asked.

“He has to get back. His family's expecting him,” Louis interjected, picking at some imaginary substance on his jumper.

“Oh, are they?” Jay said, disbelievingly. “One cup wouldn’t hurt.”

“Mum,” Louis said.

Jay ignored him. “Harry?”

“Um--” Harry hesitated. “I love tea.”

Louis pinned him with a look as Jay held the door open for them.

“Come in then,” she said, turning away with the expectation that he would follow. He didn't really have a choice now, did he?

Louis picked up his box. “Do you want to die before Christmas, Harry?”

“Is she going to kill me?” Harry asked warily.

Louis shrugged. “If she does, this was fun while it lasted.”

Jay apparently found it in her heart to show mercy. She fixed him tea (and left out the poison) and he sipped it on the couch, sandwiched between the twins while another Christmas movie was playing on the television. Daisy started looping her fingers in his curls. Before Harry knew it, he had a few braids and one of the bows she’d removed from her own hair tied onto the end. Louis not-so-discreetly snapped a pic.

Jay watched him the entire time he was there, like she was making a study of him, jotting down notes in her head.

When the twins got bored with him, as they tended to do with everything, Wahliyah mentioned to him that she’d started reading the Lord of the Rings series, and they’d dissolved into a conversation about headcanons and theories, while she tried easing spoilers out of him.

"You just have to read it,” Harry said. “I promise it's really worth the wait."

Wahliyah didn't talk all that often. Not to strangers at least. And Jay watched him, looking moderately impressed. Unfortunately that was where her favour ended. She stood at the door next to Louis when Harry was leaving and refused to leave them alone.

“Have a Happy Christmas," Harry said to them both.

“Same to you,” Jay said.

Louis glanced at his mum, then at Harry, crossing over his chest. "See you," he muttered.

Harry smiled reassuringly, taking a step away from the door. “Good night,” he said. Louis’ lips twitched, though he still looked annoyed. They could last a week apart. They’d have to. He caught one last glimpse of Louis before Jay said “good night” and shut the door.

Harry made it to the bottom of the steps when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

 **8:08 pm:** _Wait there_.

Harry stopped and turned toward the house again. He buried his cold hands in his pockets, looking around expectantly. Louis appeared from around the side of the house, tiptoeing toward him quickly. He wasn’t wearing a coat or shoes for that matter.

"What is it?" Harry asked but never got an answer and didn't need one. Louis stretched up on his toes and kissed him, firmly and deeply, his fingers gripping Harry's scarf.

Just as quickly, Louis sank back down to his feet.

"Okay," he said, stepping out of Harry's arms. "Goodnight."

Harry nodded, feeling numb. "Good night. Happy Birthday."

"It is," Louis said, walking backwards towards the house. "Very happy."

He smiled, so beautiful and so bright. He pulled his sleeves down over his hands and waved once more before he hurried back around the side of the house, darkness and shadow swallowing him up until Harry could no longer see him.

Easily, Harry could say this was the best moment of 2017. And that this, for sure, had been his best year yet.

But God, was he excited about the next one.

+

**2 January 2018**

If Niall weren’t with him, Harry would have run to school.

It was bad enough he'd made Harry wait while he fixed himself two peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast. Now he was walking so slowly, Harry was sprouting wrinkles. And Louis probably was too and Harry would be fine with kissing a wrinkly version of Louis but he was kind of looking forward to the supple lips and the bubble butt and—

Niall looked at him when Harry groaned aloud.

"Fuck is wrong with you, mate?" he asked, before smiling widely, mouth full of peanut butter. "Desperate to see your boyfriend?"

Harry nudged Niall out of his space with his shoulder.

They weren't boyfriends yet, were they? They hadn’t talked about it during the holiday, but maybe they would. Soon, Harry hoped. If he could summon the chutzpah to do it.

He and Niall stepped into the school building, Niall tossing the leftover crusts of his sandwiches into a nearby bin. A few people glanced at them, eyes lingering a second longer on Harry than they used to. But none of them mattered. All he wanted was to see Louis and he wouldn't get his chance until lunch.

Harry was headed to chemistry and he had to peer down the hallway near the back of the school, knowing he might catch a glimpse of Louis at his locker.

But all Harry could see was Ralph. Ralph with his right hand fisted in Louis' collar, pulling it tight, choking Louis off and drawing this look of discomfort and rage onto his face.

A fuse blew in Harry's head. A vase seated atop some mantle fell and shattered. Somewhere a hundred trees fell to a forest floor and Harry heard every one of them. His next move was cosmic and animal and he didn’t understand how but everything stopped and shifted right into focus.

He dropped his chemistry book and his notebook and his pencil and he was in Ralph's space before the boy even noticed his approach. Harry twisted both of his hands in the collar of Ralph's shirt, his knuckles going bone white, and then he was forcing him back back back, all the fuck away from Louis, and into the lockers behind them. The sound of his body meeting the metal echoed through the hall and in that subconscious part of his mind Harry heard the hush descend over the students around them.

Ralph was speechless, mouth parted, eyes wide.

“Harry,” he heard Louis say behind him and normally his voice would be enough to snap Harry out of whatever trance he was in, but not this time.

He kept his eyes on Ralph. Ralph kept his eyes on him. And then Harry spoke, so quietly he was certain only Ralph would hear him

“I will break your fucking arm,” he said. His fingers hurt with how they were locked in Ralph’s shirt. “If you _ever_ touch him again, I promise.”

Mrs Clark, Harry's old history teacher, was approaching them as fast as her navy heels could carry her, yelling for them to stop. Harry remained right where he was, refusing to break eye contact.

“I don’t break promises,” Harry said and then he dropped his hands, just as Mrs Clark caught up to them.

“To the office right now,” she said furiously. Amazing how she'd never shown up when Harry was getting his arse kicked. “Both of you.”. Ralph pushed away from the locker with a grunt, shrugging his rucksack up onto his shoulder and started off in the direction of the office.

“You too, Mr Styles. I never would have expected this kind of behaviour from you,” she was blabbering, beginning her walk back down the hallway. “Wait ‘til your poor mum finds out.”

Harry ignored her. He would go to the office, sure. But first.

He turned to Louis, running his eyes over his face, his neck and arms, checking for scratches or bruises, a little worried that if he found one he might go break Ralph’s arm anyway.

“Are you okay?” he asked him.

Louis nodded a little numbly. “I’m good, yeah.”

Harry smiled. He'd really been looking forward to eating lunch with him. Now he probably wouldn't get the chance. “It’s really good to see you,” he said. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He collected his books off the floor and started to head down the hall when he felt Louis’ hand around his arm and hold tight.

“Come with me,” Louis said, tugging him.

Harry's brows creased. “I can't. I have to--”

“Now, H. Come on.” Louis tugged on his hand again. “Let’s go.”

Harry stared at him for two seconds longer, his gaze swinging back to where Mrs Clark had made it a good ways down the hall without looking back to check that Harry was there. She was about to round the corner when she finally realized he hadn’t moved.

“Harry Styles,” she shouted.

Harry looked at Louis again.

“Let’s run,” Louis said and with the way his face lit up when he said it, the way he squeezed Harry’s hand, it didn’t surprise Harry at all that he let Louis tug him closer and into a sprint.

It was by far the most insubordinate thing Harry had ever done. And the _best_. He ran as fast as he could, while Mrs Clark called after them. There were still kids lining the halls staring at them in dismay, but it was all lost to him under the sound of Louis’ laughter and the squeak of their trainers on the linoleum. Somewhere along the way he lost his books at didn’t even care.

They didn’t even know where they were going. They left through the back doors, racing across the pitch even though a physical education class was in session. When they escaped the school grounds, they stood there for two seconds, just looking at each other.

Louis laughed and then stepped close, kissing Harry square on the mouth.

Harry smiled big and broad. “We’re in so much trouble.”

“Later, yeah,” Louis said. “Right now, you’re with me.”

So they fled, hand in hand, though they opted out the track star running for brisk walking. It wasn’t until they made it past Harry’s neighbourhood, past the park, and past Louis’ neighbourhood too, that they finally stopped twenty minutes later to catch their breath.

“Where are we even going?” Harry asked.

“No clue,” Louis said. “Do you have money?”

They kneeled and spread their change out on the pavement. Harry had a five-pound note and a few two-pound coins. Louis had six one pound coins.

“Well, this is enough for a bus both ways,” Louis said. “For both of us.”

“Yeah, but a bus to where?”

Louis looked at him. “What kind of date is this?” he said. He gathered the change and poured it into Harry’s hand. “Anywhere, Haz."

So they caught a bus to the next town over where hopefully no one from their own neighbourhoods would spot them. They went to a music store, even though they didn’t have money to buy anything. And then into a bookshop, where the same problem occurred. Harry did manage to convince the shop owner to sell a tattered book to him for one pound.

“Why did you even want this?” Louis asked, scrutinizing the book in his hands. It wasn't in very good shape, and when he sniffed it, he wrinkled his nose.

Harry waited until they were out of the view of the shop windows and took it from him, flipping to the last page. “It’s signed by the author,” he said like it was a secret.

“Did she know that?” Louis asked of the shop owner, taking it back to read the inscription.

Harry smirked. “Don’t think she would have sold it for a pound if she did.”

Louis snapped the book closed. “Aren’t you sly,” he said, starting to hand it back to him.

“Keep it. It’s for Wahliyah,” Harry said. “She told me she read a book by that author.”

Louis blinked. “You bought this for my sister?” he said a little dumbfounded.

Harry looked around for somewhere else to go. “Yeah, seemed like a waste to leave it,” he murmured distractedly. He glanced at Louis when he realized he wasn’t responding.

Louis’ brows were creased, a little smile on his face. “I really want to kiss you again,” he said, stunning Harry yet again. Louis moved past him, headed to their next destination, wherever that may be. "Maybe later."

Well, Harry hoped.

They ended up at an ice cream shop where they shared a bowl of strawberry ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. They fought each other’s spoons and tangled their feet together under the table.

A woman came in with a baby and two small children at her side, and Harry and Louis made faces at their kids, scoring a round of giggles from them and their mother. An elderly couple walked in shortly afterwards and when they shared a bowl of chocolate ice cream with sprinkles, Harry glanced at Louis and found that he was already looking back.

No one seemed troubled by the sight of two kids dressed in their uniforms, eating ice cream while school should still be in session and Harry was grateful because he wanted to stay there forever.

And then his phone rang. And his mum's name flashed across the screen. And their date was over.

It was rather anticlimactic having to walk back to school. But his parents were waiting there for him and he didn't want to upset his mum anymore than he already had. They walked back from the bus stop, sharing a pack of Skittles.

"You won't be in trouble, will you?" Harry asked him, while Louis dumped all the grape ones in his hand.

"Doubt it,” Louis said.

"Do you think—” Harry started. Louis looked at him expectantly. “I don’t know if my mum will let me go anywhere for a while. But when she does, maybe we could do this for real? I could take you out again. Like on a genuine date?”

Louis laughed. "Sure,” he said. “This one was quite genuine, though.”

Harry smiled, holding his hand out for more Skittles.

+

**4 January 2018**

Headmaster McKinney had been reluctant to issue much of a punishment. Not to Harry Styles. Not to King of the Spelling Bee, top of his class, projected valedictorian Harry Styles. But Mrs Clark had been insistent, describing Harry’s behaviour as ‘violent and intolerable’ and Headmaster McKinney had been left no choice.

Protecting Louis apparently was not an excuse, but still entirely worth the trouble.

Wednesday’s detention went like this:

Ralph slid into a seat on the other side of the room and spent the entire period either glaring at his desk or glaring at Harry. Later, Coach Winston gave Harry ten extra laps, ten extra pushups, and a short spit-ridden speech about ‘bad influences’ and ‘setting proper examples’ when he finally showed up for practice. Nevermind that the ‘bad influence’ he spoke of was none other than his star player.

But then came Thursday.

He had detention that day for skipping school, which meant that two minutes before the bell rang, in walked Louis, his gaze and a smile immediately directed Harry’s way. He wore a big windbreaker and Adidas trainers that squeaked softly on the linoleum as he walked. He passed the table Harry occupied, brushing his fingers along Harry’s forearm, spreading goose bumps over his skin. He slid into a seat in the back of the room behind a table in the far right corner and tugged his phone out of his pocket right away.

Harry faced forward. He couldn’t very well stare at him for a whole hour. His phone buzzed a second later and he hid it into his lap so he could read the message discreetly.

 **3:59 pm:** _There’s an empty seat next to me._

Harry glanced around the room, and then shot another glance at Louis.

Yesterday, there hadn’t been anyone else in detention aside from Harry and Ralph (which obviously made things unbearably awkward). But currently, there were three other students in the room with him and Louis. A kid sleeping in the back corner, two tables away from Louis, a girl up at the very front peeling varnish off her nails and building a pile of pink shavings, and another boy currently sticking his gum beneath the table.

Mr Smead, the oldest teacher at school, was sitting at the front, reading a newspaper while waiting for the period to start.

Harry pocketed his phone, drumming his fingers on the table for two seconds, before he swiped his notebook up and tried to be stealthy about moving to the back. Louis smiled as Harry slipped into the chair beside him.

“Hello,” Louis said.

"Hi," Harry whispered.

“I never gave you that kiss after our date on Tuesday,” Louis said. “I should make it up to you.” He scooted his chair closer to Harry’s. Harry shot a glance at Mr Smead.

“He’s going to fall asleep three minutes after the bell rings,” Louis said quietly, patting Harry’s knee. “He won’t wake up again until the bell rings again in an hour.”

Mr Smead flipped a page on his newspaper slowly, eyes hooded like he was fighting to keep them open.

Louis squeezed Harry’s knee. The bell rang. Mr Smead closed his newspaper, reclined in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

Louis smiled at Harry, wrinkling his nose as if he needed to look any cuter. There was a gleam in his eye and Harry was still figuring out what it meant when Louis’ hand inched a little higher, his fingers pressing into Harry’s thigh. He glanced down at Louis’ hand.

“Um—”

Louis smiled, his bottom lip bitten, as he dragged his hand up, up, up and pressed the heel of his palm into Harry’s crotch.

Harry sucked a quick breath through slightly parted lips. “Louis—”

Louis leaned close, putting his mouth to Harry’s ear. “Just relax.”

The irony.

Sweat started to bead Harry’s top lip. He glanced at Mr Smead again, only to find that he was knocked out, his head tilted back, round belly rising and falling evenly. Harry surveyed the rest of the room, found the girl at the front to be hunched over her desk, probably still picking at her nails. The boy two tables over was snoring softly and the other up ahead was bobbing his head to the beat flowing out of his earphones.

A soft groan leaked from Harry’s mouth as Louis slid his hand over the length of his dick and squeezed. Harry propped his elbow up on the table so he could bite into his fist. And Louis took that as his cue to further things along. He pushed his chair back a little, his fingers working deftly at Harry’s belt buckle. He leaned over, pressing a kiss below Harry’s ear.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I met you,” he said quietly, sliding his hand into Harry’s trousers and pants, knuckles brushing over the head of his cock. Harry’s mouth fell open. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“How badly do you want my mouth?” Louis murmured into his ear, distracting him while he pulled him out of his trousers and started stroking gently.

Harry nearly sobbed. “Louis, please—”

“Please, what?”

“I want you so bad.”

“You can have me,” Louis said, kissing him on the mouth and then he was sinking his head down into Harry’s lap, and pressing his tongue against the head of Harry’s cock, and Harry wasn’t dreaming. This was really, truly happening. Louis licked up and down his cock with verve and then sucked him into his mouth and Harry felt it all, the softness of his lips, the firm press of his tongue, real as ever.

Harry dropped his forehead to the table, his breath condensing on the polished surface, while down below Louis’ nose brushed his thigh.

Louis moaned as quietly as he could. Soft, wet sounds filled the space and no one heard them or noticed. Harry felt his cock fattening up, the pressure building around the base and at the bottom of his spine.

“ _Louis_ ,” he hissed, pulling lightly on his hair. “Lou, Lou, Lou, _wait_ \--”

Louis dug his fingers into Harry’s thigh, sunk his mouth down as far as he could, until Harry hit the back of his throat and saw stars pop across his vision. And he was coming so hard he couldn’t breathe.

Louis pulled off after a second because he couldn’t swallow it all at once, but he licked around his hand and over the tip, until Harry was spent. Then for a moment, Louis rested his head on Harry’s thigh and caught his breath. When he sat up and wiped his hand over his damp mouth, Harry looked at him like he was seeing him anew.

They leaned in at the same time, pushing their mouths together. Harry could taste himself on Louis’ lips and tongue. He pulled away, whispering.

“You’re so fucking- You’re really-” Harry sighed, kissing him again. “You’re perfect.”

Louis laughed quietly, brushing his nose against Harry’s cheek. “I know,” he said. “So are you.”

It was a bit uncomfortable stuffing his dick back into his pants and trousers with the base swollen the way it was. He wouldn’t admit it to Louis, but he’d never popped a knot before. He’d read enough biology textbooks to know it only ever happened when there was someone to breed in near proximity during ‘arousal’. And being that Harry’s previous sexual experiences amounted to frantic hand jobs during his rut, there hadn’t ever been a reason for his body to react this way until now.

It wasn’t like Louis had missed it though. He'd licked his knot even. 

Now he had his arms folded on top of the desk, head rested on top of his arms, and he looked at Harry like he was seeing him for the first time. The bell would ring any minute. Mr Smead slept on, he and the other students barred from this bubble that had grown around Harry and his boy.

+

**5 January 2018**

"I want to throw a small party for Zayn's birthday next week. Just his close friends. I think that’d cheer him up a bit," Louis said on the phone the following day.

He didn't have to say why. As bad as Zayn had been in December, apparently there was room for things to get worse.

Because Liam had started coming to school again.

And seeing him was hard enough for Zayn without having to deal with the scrutiny of their schoolmates, which was abundant in the first week. Everyone was shocked by their distance. The power couple, that even Harry had once envied, now reduced two kids who couldn’t even look at each other.

It got the gossip going strong, in the midst of talk that Louis was turning Harry into a delinquent. Now everyone wanted to know what the fuck happened to Liam and Zayn. Harry wanted to know. And so did Louis, though he’d never admit it.

More than anything, more than Zayn’s reticence, it was the gossip that drove Louis half-mad. He'd ripped Andrew Jennings a new arsehole only that morning for mentioning Zayn and Liam during practice minutes after Zayn left for the toilet. Andrew should have known better, really.

"What the fuck does that have to do with you?" Louis had asked him, propping his foot up on his ball. The boys around them stopped their own conversations to listen. "Don’t tell me— Are you obsessed with Zayn? Is that why you sit around, talking about him all day? Fuck, that’s sad, mate."

Andrew tried to drop it and Harry tried to calm Louis down with a quiet, “hey,” but he raged on.

“Come on, man. Enlighten me,” Louis said. Andrew grunted and stalked off to the other side of the pitch, as far away from Louis as he could get. Louis looked around at their other teammates huddled close by. “Would anyone else like to admit that they're obsessed with Zayn?”

“I think he’s pretty cool, yeah,” Niall had chimed in.

Harry shoved Niall in his shoulder.

“Shut up, Niall,” Louis ended his speech, plopping down next to Harry. He shrugged when Harry looked at him. “Had to be done.”

He wasn’t necessarily wrong.

“A party sounds great,” Harry said, later that night. Everyone could do with some loosening up. “Count me in.”

+

**9 January 2018**

“You’re good at geography, aren’t you?” Louis asked Harry after lunch, then shook his head. “Never mind. Of course you are. I need a tutor.”

“I could do that,” Harry said. He’d love to do that.

“Good,” Louis said with a nod and a smile. “I'll see you after school.”

And he was waiting at Harry’s locker after practice.

“Your house or mine?” Harry asked, after he finished packing his rucksack, pulling the straps over his shoulders.

“Yours?” Louis suggested. “My sisters are a little obsessed with you. They’ll just keep bothering us.”

“Will they be okay alone?” Harry asked.

A fond smile donned Louis’ lips. “You’re worried about them?”

“Of course. I like your sisters,” Harry said. They were part of Louis’ family. How could he not?

Louis smirked. “Just not more than me.”

Harry fell into step beside him. “Well, no. That would be weird.”

His parents weren’t home. His dad normally worked till late and his mum would be gone for at least another two hours. Gemma had long gone back to university.

So maybe Harry was the tiniest bit nervous (or a lot) when Louis stepped into his empty house and immediately asked to see his room. Even after Wednesday, blowjob or none, Harry still felt like his fingers were all thumbs when he touched Louis. And if Louis was willing to suck his dick in a classroom, Harry couldn’t imagine what he got up to with privacy.

He led Louis up the stairs, pushing the door open so he could step inside first. Harry kicked off his shoes at the door. Louis dropped his bag and his coat by the foot of the bed and turned a slow circle, taking everything in.

Harry lowered his rucksack to the ground, watching Louis approach his desk and lean forward, squinting at something on the corkboard.

“You kept my note,” Louis announced.

Harry buried his hands in his pockets. "Did you expect me to throw it away?”

Louis studied the index card pinned there. He glanced at Harry. “I just didn’t expect you to keep it,” he said. He pointed to the camera on Harry’s desk. “That yours?”

“Yeah,” Harry said softly, sounding a little in awe. He loved seeing Louis in his room, touching his things, taking up his space.

“When’d you get it?” Louis asked.

“My birthday two years ago. A little while after your note, actually.”

Louis smiled, running his fingers along the wood grain of Harry’s desk. “Good birthday then.”

“The best, yeah,” Harry replied. Louis stood by the bed, walking his fingers across the duvet. Harry cleared his throat. “Um, do you want something to drink? Tea maybe?”

Louis shook his head. “I think I’m good for now,” he said, tossing his fringe away from his eyes. He took a seat on the mattress and reclined, propping himself up on his elbows. He lifted his brows.

Harry swallowed. “I thought you wanted me to help you with geography.”

“You think I spent two hours on my hair this morning to entice you to…geography?” Louis questioned.

Harry snorted. “You didn't spend two hours on your hair this morning.” His hair always looked nice but there was no way.

“Well, no, of course not,” Louis said. “The point is, here we are, alone in your room, alone in your house, and you want to teach me _geography_?”

Harry nudged the door closed with his foot. “Not really, no."

“Good," Louis said. "Then get here."

Harry laughed, taking a few steps to close the distance between himself and Louis. He hesitated again upon reaching the mattress but Louis took his hand and pulled him forward. Slowly Harry climbed atop him and then he leaned in.

For a while, they snogged, eyelashes and noses brushing like butterfly wings.

And then Louis shifted his hips just a tad and Harry was suddenly painfully aware of how hard they both were. He wanted nothing more than to grind down into the heat of Louis’ body, but he rolled away instead.

“Sorry,” he said, his face heating up. He couldn’t say for what. He bent his leg so the material of his trousers didn’t stretch so tightly across his groin.

“When is your mum coming home?” Louis asked quietly.

“Not for another two hours,” Harry said tentatively.

Louis pushed himself up, swung his leg over Harry’s, and seated himself right in his lap. “And your dad?”

Harry could hardly _breathe,_ choked up by the sight of Louis’ perfect thighs framing his hips. “Um, he’s— tonight. Yeah, tonight, sometime. Jesus,” he muttered when Louis wriggled in his lap. “Louis.”

“Tell me if we’re moving too fast.”

Harry shook his head. He’d kind of been waiting forever.

Louis smiled, pulling Harry’s tie loose, then he worked button by button loose until Harry’s shirt fell open.

“Relax,” Louis said like he had during detention and Harry tried. “Do you want me to get you off?” Louis asked, his arms bracketing either side of Harry’s head. He leaned down to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Hm?”

Harry blinked up at his ceiling. Yes. Fuck, _yes_. How could he not want that? He shook his head. "No," he said. Louis froze, looking curious but anxious too. Harry cupped his waist and pushed up against him, flipping them over so he could settle on top of him again.

"I want— I want to take care of you this time," Harry said. "If you want—"

Louis bit down on his bottom lip, his eyes flickering over Harry's face. "Yeah," he said, a little breathless. "Please."

And okay. Harry had offered, but he didn't actually know what to do next. He looked down between them, starting to shuffle backwards so he could unzip Louis’ trousers, maybe — seemed like a good place to start and Louis made this sound in the back of his throat, a moan or a whine that Harry hadn’t expected.

“Wait,” Louis said.

Harry stilled, eyes like laser beams on Louis’ face.

"Just— can you just—" Louis flustered, which helped ease Harry’s nerves the slightest. Louis pressed his hand into Harry's arse trying to pull him against himself. He wrapped his legs around Harry's hips, arching up off the bed to rub their groins together. "Just, like this—"

And it clicked. Harry pressed his hips down firmly, vacillating between watching Louis’ face and the negative space between their bodies. Louis' mouth fell open on a whimper. He pushed his hands between them, unbuckling his own belt, pulling it from its loops.

Harry did the same for himself, pushing his trousers and pants down to mid-thigh, and then they were both naked from the waist down and Harry settled between Louis' legs, grinding into him again.

“Yes—” Louis’ voice cut off. He groaned again.

Louis’ scent was everywhere, hovering in the air around them. It made Harry’s throat go dry, made him dizzy with need, and made each move of his hips more frantic. It drove him crazier to think that later he might still be able to smell Louis on his sheets.

It was so much like how Harry imagined sex, how they moved together. Even if this wasn't how alphas mated their omegas. Harry remembered that from an odd conversation with Greg, though to call it a conversation was generous.

Alphas were supposed to take their omegas from behind, sink into them when they were on all fours, with their arses presented. Imagining Louis like that was explosive, sure. But the very first time, if Louis should have him, Harry wanted it like this. He wanted to see Louis' face the way he could now. He wanted to look into his eyes when he rocked against him. And when he came, he wanted it to be like this, secured between Louis’ legs.

"Fuck," Louis hissed, his voice gone high-pitched. The next overeager thrust of Harry’s hips hitched Louis higher up the bed. Louis squeezed his eyes shut, dug his fingers into Harry's lower back, and came with a soundless gasp.

Harry slowed his hips, his eyes darting all over Louis’ face again. He kissed him once, twice. “So beautiful,” he murmured.

Louis’ glassy eyes met his for only a second before he turned them over again and shuffled off the bed, kneeling in front of Harry’s parted legs. He got a hand around Harry’s cock and started jacking him.

Harry watched him until he couldn't, his head falling against the bed. "Fucking Christ-" he breathed. He pushed his hand through Louis’ soft fringe. “Louis-”

He tried to warn him but failed. He came hard, striping Louis’ face with come. It landed on his cheek and his brow and jaw. Louis ran his mouth down the length of him, looking at him the whole time. And the sight of him, in his uniform shirt and tie with his face completely ruined-- it was too much. Harry dropped his head back again, his heart rabbiting so forcefully it might explode.

Louis climbed atop Harry’s body again and spread his palms across Harry’s chest. They were quiet for a while after that, Louis looking at his body, following the path of his fingers.

“You’re pretty fit, you know?” he said eventually, his hand grazing Harry’s abs.

Harry stared at his hands instead of meeting his eyes. ‘Fit’ isn’t how he’d think to describe himself, but he also never would have imagined Louis saying it either.

Louis slapped his hands lightly on Harry’s stomach and sighed. “Alright, Harold,” he said. “I really do need help with geography.”

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

They got cleaned up and spread their books out on the floor. Needless to say, it was hard to focus with Louis sat in his pants with his shirt left open. He wasn’t concentrating anyway. While Harry tried to explain the positive effects of rises in CO2, Louis drew hearts on Harry's wrist in Sharpie and wrote an L on the fat part of his palm beneath his thumb.

“I have a question,” he said, poking Harry in his cheek with the bottom of his Sharpie.

“About forestation?” Harry asked.

Louis smiled, leaning back on his palms. “Not quite,” he said. “Where’s my poem?”

Harry flipped a page in their textbook. “I think forestation is more interesting.”

“Don’t tell me I have to beg,” Louis said.

Harry would love to see that. Another time, maybe.

"We haven't even gotten through one chapter, Lou."

"Just let me see it, and then I promise, I'll pay attention," Louis said. "Please?"

Harry sighed, dropping his pen between his book. He stood and went to his desk, shuffling around in the drawer until he found the square of folded paper. Louis snatched it from him, unfolded it, and Harry focused adamantly on outlining more geography notes for Louis.

Louis must have reread it six or so times. It wasn't that long and yet he was quiet for almost ten minutes before he finally looked at Harry and said, "Do you actually see constellations in my eyes or what?"

Harry’s cheeks warmed immediately. It sounded so much worse repeated back to him that way. "All the time," he said quietly, flipping to another page.

"And the world is mine?” Louis asked. “Are you sure you want to give me that kind of power?"

Harry chuckled. "It seemed like a good idea back then."

"Not so much now, huh?"

"I'd probably still give you the world if I could," Harry said. “It’s more figurative, though. It’s not the whole world. Just mine.”

Louis folded the poem again. "Who knew you were such a sweet talker,” he said. “I think, since you wrote this for me, I should have a copy of it. In fact, I’m kind of offended that you haven’t given me one sooner.”

“You’re ridiculous, but you can keep it,” Harry said, and then he gave up trying to steer Louis back to geography altogether. “I get to ask you a question though.”

“You can ask me anything,” Louis said. He slid the square of paper into his shirt pocket.

Harry drummed his pen on his book. “You know those biscuits you baked? The ones you gave me for my birthday?”

Louis groaned. “Except for that. Anything but that.”

“That’s not fair.”

Louis lied back on the carpeted floor, spreading his arms out like a starfish. “What about them? Did they taste like shit?” he asked. “Because it was my mum’s recipe and I followed it exactly. So I can’t be blamed.”

“Louis.”

“I’m just saying.”

“They tasted great. That’s not— Did you actually bake them for me? Or you know, did you bring them for lunch and decide at the last minute to give them to me?”

Louis’ mouth dropped open. “You actually think I’d do that?”

“No, I mean- No, but you just- You put them in a paper bag, so. I’ve just been curious. I loved them. They were great, I mean it. I tried to save one as like a keepsake. But then my mum ate it. I was so mad at her for a week. So even if you didn’t bake them for me, I still loved them--”

Louis rolled onto his side and propped his elbow up, resting his head in his palm. “I wrote your initials in the frosting.”

“Huh?”

“I’m pretty sure the frosting got messed up because I carried them in my rucksack. But I wrote your initials on the biscuits. In blue frosting,” Louis explained.

“Blue?” was oddly the question Harry chose to ask.

“I asked Niall what your favourite colour was. I had to bribe him with a bag of chips. He didn’t like me very much back then.”

He wrote his initials in blue frosting…

“He just didn’t trust you. But he likes you now,” Harry said. “Because I like you, so.”

A beat of silence passed.

“You wrote my initials in the frosting…” Harry repeated.

“I did,” Louis said. “Which proves that I stayed up late the night before decorating them for you. I put them in a paper bag because I couldn’t very well use a gift bag or everyone would know I was completely gone for you.”

“You weren’t gone for me.”

“I was _so_ gone,” Louis said, laughing.

It didn’t make sense. There was no equation or formula that could explain how this had happened. Harry was absolutely the biggest nerd two years ago. Cutting his hair a bit differently and trading out his raggedy art-project trainers for new ones had helped since. The baby fat was gone in most places too, replaced by fleshy muscle from football practice and Saturday’s with Louis and his recent commitment to crunches and pushups every morning. He could maybe understand now why someone _might_ be interested in him. But two years ago…

Maybe none of that had mattered to Louis.

“You swear?” Harry asked.

Louis placed his hand over his heart. “I swear.”

Harry groaned. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

So many reasons. At fourteen and fifteen, the last thing Harry would have thought to do was go after Louis. Because Liam made him feel small and inadequate. Because Louis could’ve had anyone he wanted. But none of those reasons felt right now.

Harry dragged his hands down his face.

“I was scared, I guess—” His forehead wrinkled as he tried to think. “But-- I’m not anymore. I know you’ve dated other people and I haven’t. I know you’ve got more friends and-- All the things that used to scare me back then, don’t anymore. So, I’ll do my best for you. Always. But I think it’s still a little unbelievable that you even feel the same way—”

He had to stop talking. He wasn’t making sense and wasn’t saying what he wanted to say at all. He locked his lips together, threw away the metaphorical key.

Louis sat upright. “I know you think I’m better at all this, but I’m not. You’re my first boyfriend too.”

 _Boyfriend_. Harry’s heart nearly fell through his ribcage. His mouth suddenly felt dry. He needed a sip of water, but settled for licking his lips. “What about Ralph?”

Louis shook his head. “I entertained the idea of Ralph ‘cause Liam and Zayn were so insistent. And he was alright, yeah, but that was all. Just alright,” Louis said. “And you’re not _just_ anything.”

“Neither are you,” Harry said.

Louis smiled.

“So…” Harry began quietly. “Boyfriend?”

Louis touched Harry’s hand, turned it over, and traced the lines of his palm. “If that’s what you want to call this.”

“I do,” Harry said. “Definitely.”

Louis studied him for a second before he was leaning in, and Harry was too, connecting their mouths. When they pulled away, Louis grinned, wrinkled his nose adorably, Harry’s dimple reflected all that mirth right back.

Louis sighed. “Could my boyfriend maybe help me pass geography?”

+

**12 January 2018**

“It’s not too late to take all this stuff down,” Harry said, though they were nearly finished decorating Louis’ basement. All that was left was a “Happy Birthday” banner to decorate the wall.

“Why would we do that?” Louis asked, handing Harry another piece of tape.

Because when Zayn found out about the party they were throwing him, he looked like he'd rather die. And to Harry, it made sense. Christmas and New Year’s had just passed without Liam. Why would Zayn want to celebrate his birthday passing the same way too?

“He just seemed really adamant about not having a party,” Harry said.

“If it were up to him, he’d sit in his room for the rest of year 12.” Louis stepped back to make sure the banner wasn’t crooked, then walked to the other side of the room, observing the banner from that angle too. "If we could all just show him that we’re here, and that we still love him and support him, I think maybe it’ll help, at least a little bit.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Harry said.

Louis frowned and Harry felt bad for finding it adorable. “You seem very doubtful. I thought my _boyfriend_ is supposed to have my back.”

Harry paused for a second. It’d only been a few days now and Louis made sure to find every possible reason to use the term when he could. And each time he did, Harry’s stomach did a few somersaults and the blood rushed to his face. He still wasn’t used to it, didn’t think he would be any time soon.

“I’ve always got your back,” Harry said. Louis’ frown dissipated a fraction. “But I think I’m also supposed to tell you when something might not be a good idea.”

“You don’t think this is a good idea?” Louis asked, waving around at the room that was now thoroughly decorated.

“I think it’s worth a shot,” Harry said. He just didn’t want him to get his hopes up.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Louis asked.

“He could disappear again?” Harry suggested.

Louis didn’t have a response to that. He spun the tape roll around his finger and suddenly, they were both thinking back to three days prior.

A few hours after school, Louis had called Harry, sounding frantic in a way Harry had never heard him and never wanted to again. Zayn hadn’t come home. None of the girls had seen him, he wasn’t answering his phone, and night was beginning to fall.

Harry, Louis, Niall, and surprisingly Greg had gone out looking for him, searching for nearly two hours before Louis got a call from Jay.

Zayn had come home. He was fine and more importantly, safe.

But the six hours he’d been gone were still painful to think about, six hours in which anything could have happened, especially to an omega, especially to one as emotionally distraught and reckless as Zayn.

Harry climbed down the step stool and cupped Louis’ face between his hands.

“He’d be crazy not to appreciate these decorations,” he said.

Louis smiled and pressed a kiss to his palm. “That’s better.”

+

Niall showed up first, with his guitar and cupcakes his mum supposedly baked but Harry suspected had come from Waitrose. Stan arrived a little while afterwards with his girlfriend and Cory in tow. Cory was invited, as it turned out, by Louis himself. To draw his line in the sand, Harry could only imagine. Omegas were just as territorial as alphas, he proved, spending a good portion of time running his fingers through Harry’s hair, kissing his cheek, or whispering into his ear (even just to say ‘pass the crisps’). He called Harry his “boyfriend” loudly, a total of six times, and with an air of arrogance that had Stan and Niall rolling their eyes each time.

To what degree his assertions were effective, Harry was uncertain. He wasn’t paying attention really. When Louis murmured that he wanted to suck him off in his room, it was hard to focus on much else.

It was hard to miss, however, that Zayn was unhappy. He had a dull, uninterested look in his eyes whenever he spared a second to respond to someone, which was the only time he spoke. He pushed cake around his plate, and then left it uneaten on the table. The only time he smiled was when Niall pulled his guitar out and played ‘Happy Birthday’.

Halfway through the party, Harry went upstairs with Niall to refill the snacks and the punchbowl, dodging attacks from the twins on their way to the kitchen.

“You know this isn’t working,” Niall commented, peering into the fridge.

Harry pulled open a bag of pretzels. “Louis hoped it would.”

Niall got a carton of orange juice and fruit punch out of the fridge and uncapped them both.

“I wish we knew what happened,” Harry said quietly. “Might be able to help more if we did.”

Niall turned the top of the orange juice over, bright liquid splashing into the bowl.

“Yeah, I doubt it,” Niall said. “He told me what happened and there’s nothing you or anyone could do, really.”

Harry blinked, hands frozen on the bag of pretzels. "Sorry, what?"

"He told me what happened," Niall repeated, clearly not seeing how that might be surprising. Zayn hadn’t even told Louis.

"When?" Harry asked.

"When we were in the car at Stan’s party,” Niall said. “That's why I let him have all Greg’s shit. He needed it, believe me.”

"Well, what is it?” Harry urged him. “What happened?"

"I can't tell you," Niall said, plainly. "He wouldn’t want me to."

Harry wanted to pull his hair out of his head, his own hair and Niall’s too. "Did he hurt him? Like physically?" he asked anyway.

Niall scoffed. "Nah. Liam’s a dick but he would never."

Harry wasn't convinced. Not with the way he remembered Liam's dad being. He hadn’t seen George Payne in years, but he would never forget the times he had.

Like father like son. Harry hated to think it but Liam had never proven otherwise.

“Do you think they’ll fix it?” Harry said. “Whatever it is, is it repairable?”

Niall shrugged. "I guess, in a few years.”

“But that’d be a bad idea, wouldn’t it? I mean, obviously, when Liam is fine with hurting him the way he is,” Harry said. “Cheating on him or whatever--”

“It’s nothing like that, H. It’s not that simple,” Niall said, dropping his voice a notch when the stereo downstairs went quiet as the song changed. “Believe me, I'd be the last person to ever defend him. And that's not what I'm doing at all. I just think— I don't know. From what Zayn said, just seems like Liam thinks he’s doing what’s best for him."

Niall lifted the punchbowl from the worktop. “That’s all I can say. Sorry, mate,” he said, plucking a pretzel from Harry’s bag and leaving the kitchen.

+

The rest of the party went as smoothly as it could have gone, all things considered. Zayn went to his room eventually. Harry stayed behind to help Louis clean up after everyone else had left. Halfway through they ended up snogging in the loo for ten minutes before Jay came down to ask Harry when he was going home.

She hadn’t seemed all that happy when they stepped out of the loo together, red-faced and dishevelled.

She helped them clean up afterwards, eager to get Harry on his way home. At this point, there was no way he’d ever be left alone with Louis again.

He’d find a way to make it up to her. More pie, maybe?

He was starting down the steps when a shadow loomed in the corner of his eye and he stopped, frozen at the mailbox.

Because there was Liam.

For a second, they just looked at each other, Liam with his eyes slightly narrowed, hands jammed in his pockets. Harry’s annoyance sparked and blazed immediately. He wanted to hit him, just once, one good punch before he headed home.

“What are you doing?” he asked instead.

“Nothing,” Liam said dismissively. Being that he was currently standing outside Zayn’s house, Harry would think not.

“If Louis’ mum sees you out here, she’ll call the police,” Harry said. “Just so you know.”

“I think I’d know her better than you. You’ve been dating Louis for what, a week?”

Harry huffed a laugh. “Whatever,” he said, starting past him.

“Wait,” Liam called.

Why Harry was still listening to him was a mystery. He paused, turning back to face him. “What?”

Liam’s eyes shifted to the house again, then to the ground. “How’s Zayn?”

Harry just stared at him.

Liam looked up, frowning. “Did you not hear me?”

“I heard you fine. Just don’t think I’m gonna answer,” Harry said. After a second, he decided, “Yeah, I’m not.”

He started to turn away when he felt Liam grab his arm, fingers tight around Harry’s bicep, enough to stop him. Harry was so tired, too tired to deal with this, and yet, it seemed like he wouldn’t have a choice.

"Get your fucking hands off me, Liam," Harry said, not so much angrily, more resigned and annoyed than anything.

Liam raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you’re pretty tough now ‘cause you stood up to Ralph, are you? I’ve been away too long."

That wasn’t it at all. Harry might say he felt tough, sure, far more confident than he’d ever felt in front of Liam before. But it had nothing to do with Ralph, and everything to do with Louis.

Louis made him feel brave, like he was always daring him to be better and do better. There was always a challenge in those blue eyes and Harry was always rising to it. Louis believed in his potential and lately, Harry felt hard-pressed to prove him right.

He shrugged Liam off when he still hadn’t let go of his arm. “Probably so,” Harry said. “Have you started failing your classes yet? How are your papers going now that I'm not writing them for you?"

The smile slipped off Liam’s face and died a tragic death. His fists curled at his sides.

"You should do it. Hit me," Harry said, stepping close. "Zayn’s right up stairs. You can prove to him that you only know how to hurt people."

Liam didn’t move or speak. Harry kept going.

"You can't hurt me anymore. You can’t hurt anyone more than you hurt him,” he said. “Why are you even here?"

“It’s his birthday,” Liam said like that was a sensible response.

“Yeah, but why are you here? Why not stay away? Trying to leave a scent so he’ll have a harder time forgetting you?”

"Fuck you, Harry,” Liam said. “You’ve got no idea what you're talking about. You’ve got no idea how much I care— Who do you think found him a few nights ago? That was me. You don’t know a fucking thing-- ”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit. He ran off because of you, dickhead,” Harry said.

Liam looked like a little boy. He looked like he was nine years old again, back at that playground where he and Harry had run, the very last time they could have been considered friends. Such a long time ago and yet now, it seemed like no time had passed at all.

“You wouldn’t understand. You never understand,” Liam said. “No one ever. Not even Zayn.”

He wasn’t speaking to Harry anymore. He was rambling, throwing blame off himself and onto the universe like always, and Harry no longer cared to hear it. He’d wasted too much of his time on Liam Payne and he was done.

“A word of advice,” Harry said. Liam looked at him expectantly, almost hopefully.

“Stay away from him,” Harry finished.

It was harsh, he knew that.

But if his words hurt Liam as much as Harry thought they might, well, maybe he could say they were even.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LP Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains scenes involving physical/emotional abuse and alcoholism.
> 
> Please, pay close attention to dates. Remember that the story is set in 2017/2018 and hops back to earlier periods in the boys’ lives i.e. 2014 (when the boys all first met). In this chapter, there will also be flashbacks to 2010 and 2011 for the sake of Harry and Liam's early childhood.

**8 December 2014**

Harry got those notes to Liam like he’d asked him to. Right on time too, but Liam didn't expect any different. Harry was predictable, reliable and efficient more often than not. Liam stuffed the notes into a folder he’d found somewhere in the bottom of his locker and curled the folder under his arm, along with a notebook and his history text. Behind him, all around him, voices buzzed with excitement.

_They’re here!_

New kids, if Liam remembered correctly, but he hadn’t been paying much attention to the rumors. His dad had always told him to ignore what people said, that most people’s opinions didn’t matter and the ones who did were wrong 90% of the time. He didn’t know where he’d gotten his statistics from but Liam never questioned his dad.

For the past week or so, they’d all been hearing about two boys coming from Cheshire, which was odd news so late in the semester. Liam didn’t care what their story was. So long as they stayed in their place—who they were or what they looked like, none of that mattered.

On his way to class, he stopped for a sip at the fountain, which was positioned near the side doors of the school, which lead out to the small courtyard. He leaned forward and tilted his mouth toward the water spout. The angle gave him a grainy view of someone kneeling in the dried-up garden just beyond the doors.

Liam stood there with his fingers still pressed into the fountain handle, water spewing aimlessly into the drain. He couldn’t peel his eyes away or figure out what he was seeing.

Why would someone pick dead flowers in the heart of December?

Liam leaned away from the fountain, glancing behind him to make sure no one was watching, and then without really thinking about why, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the chilly air.

“What are you doing?”                                                              

When the boy flinched, the dried rose he’d been holding slipped from his fingers. His eyes snapped to Liam’s and he froze.

Liam froze too.

Because he was suddenly very worried that he was still asleep.

Liam had seen good-looking people all his life. Hell, he was pretty good-looking himself. He knew remarkably beautiful people existed in the world. But not quite like this. This boy kneeling a few feet away from him was like the incarnation of every good dream Liam had ever had compacted into one.

“W-who— what’s your name?” Liam managed to stutter out, trying to sound formidable. He was failing, he knew.

The boy eyed Liam suspiciously, his chin raised a little like he came from a line of royalty. He stood up brushing his hands off on his trousers. “Zayn,” he said just as Liam had started to think he wouldn’t answer him.

“Zayn,” Liam repeated, carefully like the name was fragile. Everything about this boy appeared delicate. Liam detected that wasn’t true, though, not from the hard set of his brown eyes or his pursed lips. “I’m Liam Payne,” he offered without being asked.

“Nice to meet you,” Zayn said, the ghost of a smile flashing over his face.

Liam pushed his shoulders back. Nice strong postures were good for asserting dominance. He was on new territory here and he didn’t like how that felt, regardless of whatever his heart started doing when Zayn _almost_ smiled. “What are you doing out here?”

“Getting fresh air, I guess,” Zayn said. “Bit stuffy in there.”

“Does someone know you’re out here?” Liam asked.

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “What are you, the hall monitor?”

“Do I look like a hall-monitor?” Liam asked.

“You could be, yeah. If you had a badge or summat. You could pull it off,” Zayn said.

Liam huffed a laugh. His shoulders had relaxed without him even realizing. He resumed his posture, told himself to get it together. _He’s just a boy._ Or no, not really. He was an omega, definitely. Liam could tell from looking at him, could smell him too, faintly but not enough.

“Not a hall monitor. Not even close. But I know you’re new. And I’m trying to help you out, keep you from getting a demerit.”

“Do they give new students demerits on their first day?” Zayn wondered.

“No one’s exempt,” Liam said. And then, “Not even the pretty ones.”

Liam would roll his eyes at himself but that would be a sign of weakness, wouldn’t it? The best he could do now was pretend he felt confident about what he’d said. So he kept his shoulders back, his chin raised.

Zayn’s mouth twitched. “You’re calling me pretty now? Didn’t we just meet?”

“Don’t see how that makes you any less pretty though.” Liam shrugged.

Zayn tucked his hands into the pockets of his cardigan, watching Liam closely. “You’re an alpha, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Liam confirmed.

“Why are you being nice to me then?”

Liam made a face. “Am I not allowed to be nice?”

“My step-mum says alphas can’t be trusted,” Zayn said.

“Your step-mum’s wrong. I’m pretty trustworthy.”

“You would say that. But how should I know for sure?”

Liam thought about it. His eyes darted over Zayn’s face. “I don’t know. You should have lunch with me today. Figure it out for yourself.”

Zayn’s lips were pressed together but Liam thought there was the slightest smile hidden between them. They were beautiful lips, full and so pink. “I should find out what my brother’s doing for lunch actually.”

Liam couldn’t figure out if the flowery scent in the air came from the fading garden at their feet or from Zayn’s honey-kissed skin. He wanted to step a little closer and find out. “You have a brother?” he asked instead.

“My step-brother. Louis,” Zayn replied. “Would’ve thought you heard of him since you’re out here saving new students and all. Or is that just me?”

Liam smiled, actually smiled. “Just you, I guess,” he said. “Bring your brother along for lunch.”

“But I didn’t say I was eating lunch with you,” Zayn clarified.

Liam raised his brows. “I thought you did.”

“Nope, not me,” Zayn said, his lips twitching.

“Well…?” Liam pressed.

Zayn stayed quiet for a minute, his dark eyes taking Liam in, and giving nothing away. The thoughts running through his pretty head, Liam could never guess. He only hoped they were good.

“I’ll ask Louis,” Zayn said. “If we sit at your table, you’ll have an answer then.”

Thing was, Liam didn’t let people talk to him like this. Not ever. Too risky to give them even the slightest bit of power. And yet he just had, to a new kid, and an _omega_ at that. He had red flags shooting off in his head, alarms blaring, but he ignored all of them.

There was a good chance Zayn might sit beside him at lunch so to hell with the warning signs.

“Alright then,” Liam said, backing away, “you should still come inside, though. It’s cold out here and you could get in trouble.”

“Thanks for the concern,” Zayn said. He didn’t move. He wasn’t even listening to Liam. People always listened to Liam.

He wanted to stay and try his luck at winning Zayn over with more of his impromptu charm, because having this boy’s attention on him was territory Liam could handle just fine.

But he’d done enough for now. He’d regroup, yeah, refine his strategy. Then seal the deal at lunch.

+

He saw Zayn again walking the halls, twice more before lunch — once by himself, and again beside a shorter boy, the one he’d find out later was his brother, Louis — and each time Liam had spared a long glance for Zayn with the beginnings of a smile tucked in the corners of his lips.

Maybe that’s what convinced Zayn to show up at lunch with his brother in tow.

But if Zayn had seemed cautious of Liam, Louis was ten times worse.

He wouldn’t stop frowning at Liam. He wouldn’t laugh at anything Liam said, or smile, not even once.

“Who are they?” Zayn asked, nodding to the boys on the opposite side of the table.

“Betas. They’re with me,” Liam said simply. Louis made a noise in the back of his throat, something like a laugh. But it didn’t count. He did it solely so Liam would know he wasn’t impressed. Zayn didn’t seem all that impressed either.

Liam almost wanted to tell the other boys to bugger off for once. Usually, he enjoyed having them around. Betas increased an alpha’s overall control, made him feel powerful, and Richard, Dave, and the others saw something in Liam that his dad probably never would. They saw that Liam was strong. They’d flocked to him naturally over the past five years and hadn’t left his side since.

But he had a goal right now with Zayn, and he was wary about anything screwing it up. Louis was currently sneering at Dave and the string of cheese hanging from his loud mouth.

“I’m Liam, by the way,” Liam said to Louis to get his attention back.

“Louis,” was his cool reply.

“So why’d you two move here so late?” Liam asked Zayn when he found himself annoyed with Louis’ face. He didn’t think that would have been possible when he’d first seen him. In fact, when Liam had seen Louis, he’d considered for a second pursuing both Tomlinson boys. Only for a second.

Now, Louis simply annoyed him.

“Our parents divorced,” Zayn said. Liam got a little distracted by Zayn’s mouth as he ate his pudding cup.

“My dad moved to France for a big job and we all moved with Louis’ mum back here,” Zayn said. “Short version.”

“Maybe you can tell me the long version sometime,” Liam said.

Zayn looked at him, licking his spoon clean. “Maybe.”

Liam thought Louis was attempting to burn a hole into the side of his face, using the mole on his cheek as a target. But things were going swimmingly in spite of him. Liam brushed his knee against Zayn’s beneath the table, leaned as close as he could, and he might have sniffed him a few times, and Zayn might have noticed, and if his cheeks went a little pink, well, Liam didn’t think that was a bad thing.

Liam was considering just asking him to meet him in the bus lot after school. Bus 86 was always unlocked because the driver, Ed, was old and kept forgetting. Liam knew some of the seniors often took their mates there to make out.

But maybe he’d liked to take Zayn out on an actual date first.

Louis kept turning away, looking towards the doors of the canteen. Liam waited until he did it again, then nudged his knee against Zayn’s. “Hey—” he began. And then the loud clatter of a lunch tray rang out through the canteen followed by a unanimous gasp. Liam looked up and saw Harry with sausage and mash clinging to the front of his Oxford shirt, a blue tray lying at his feet. His face was red, beet red like it got sometimes when he couldn’t get his shit together. He looked like he was about to blast off.

Liam laughed.

Richard and Dave laughed too. It was such a normal thing: Harry fucking up and everyone having a laugh about it. He didn’t think anything of it. Not until Zayn turned and looked at him. Louis did too.

There was this look in their eyes when they glanced at each other, a mutual understanding that Liam didn’t think he’d agree with. Zayn shifted his knee away from his.

At the end of the lunch period, the two boys stood up.

“Thanks for having us,” Zayn said. “See you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Liam replied. And Zayn didn’t return his smile. He turned and joined his brother on their way out, and that was when Liam knew.

This was a boy who picked dead winter flowers and twirled them between his fingers like they were still beautiful.

And maybe he’d just realized that Liam was the kind to crush them under his boots.

Rich and Dave were still re-enacting Harry’s little performance. Liam told them to shut up and they did right away. He was angry more than he was sad. He was unfamiliar with being sad. Anger, he knew well.

Harry always managed to ruin things. Even when he did nothing, he ruined everything.

+

**6 July 2010**

To call them friends would’ve been an overstatement.

Liam found Harry weird. He wasn’t at all what his dad said alphas should be. He was soft-spoken and uncoordinated. He tripped over his clunky trainers every five minutes, probably because he couldn’t see through that mop of curly hair. Liam was always shooting his arm out to catch him, always making sure Harry didn’t fall into a ditch or something.

He wasn’t sure why he still kept him around at all. Except…well, sometimes Harry did Liam’s math homework for him. But Harry was the one who offered.

“I don’t mind at all,” Harry had said one day while he was double lacing his shoes. “It’s what friends are for.”

Liam didn’t think so. But it wasn’t like he had other friends to compare Harry too.

They only hung out because their mums had forced them to sit together in church. And Liam’s mum was happy enough to see him with boys besides Richard and Dave, the two betas who’d joined Liam’s fledgeling pack only last summer. His mum thought the boys were a bad influence on Liam. She didn’t realize it was the other way around, that Rich and Dave were rough and unfriendly because, at school, Liam was that way too. They did what Liam did, said what he did. They were who they were because of Liam.

In other news, Harry apparently didn’t know how to eat an ice cream cone without getting the stuff all over his navy polo.

“I heard you kissed Maria yesterday,” Harry said, around his cone. A fat drop of melted ice cream fell to his jeans and he frowned, scrubbing at it with his palm.

“I did,” Liam said haughtily.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” Harry admitted, though to call it an admission was gracious. Anyone could have guessed as much.

“That’s too bad,” Liam said. “Kissing is fun. Maria’s a good kisser.”

“Is she an omega?” Harry asked.

“No, a beta. Can’t you tell?”

Harry shook his head. “I think something’s wrong with my nose.”

Liam just made a noise in the back of his throat, something that made him sound surprised, but he really wasn’t. Odd things like that about Harry didn’t surprise him anymore. He was still waiting for the day Harry told him that he wasn’t an alpha at all. He knew it was bound to happen. Something similar had happened with his cousin, Carl, who’d grown up thinking he was an alpha until his first encounter with a bloke tossed him into a heat. Awkward for everyone involved.

Liam thought the same would happen with Harry, was willing to bet Harry was at least a beta, if not a full blown omega.

“Have you ever kissed an omega?” Harry asked.

Liam looked at him. “Of course I have.” He hadn’t. Liam didn’t even know any omegas around here. Most of them didn’t go around flaunting their sex, and a lot of them wore that spray stuff to keep their scent concealed.

Anyway Harry didn’t need to know that.

“Don’t worry, though. You’ll kiss one eventually,” Liam said. “And possibly mate one too.”

If he didn’t turn out to be an omega himself, that is.

Harry blushed, legitimately went pink and blotchy at the mention of mating, which was hilarious. Liam had to snicker a little.

“Come on,” Liam said, hopping down off the bench where Harry was sitting cross-legged.

“Are we commencing the mission now?” Harry asked.

 _Commencing the mission._ Liam resisted laughing.

“Yeah, sure. Come on,” he said, collecting his bike off the ground. Harry dumped the rest of his ice cream before he was finished and hurried to hop on his bike too.

The “mission” wasn’t a mission at all really. But Liam had said it that way to get Harry to come along with him, instead of going home to do his homework like he was supposed to.

He couldn’t tell Harry they were actually just spying on his dad because Harry was virtuous and would probably say “snooping was bad” and blah blah blah.

So instead, Liam told Harry what they were doing was top secret, so much so he couldn’t even give him the details.

Harry pedalled just beside Liam, keeping up the pace. He was fast when he wanted to be.

“Pull up here,” Liam said, and they veered to the right, tires skidding to a stop. They hopped off their bikes. Harry shook his hair out and swept it to the side, like that would help keep it out of his eyes. It didn’t.

“Behind the car,” Liam said quickly, pushing Harry, ducking down himself.

“What are we doing?” Harry whispered.

“Top secret,” Liam reiterated.

Harry nodded. “Right.”

Liam peeked through the car windows to the other side of the street and the entrance of the building there. Harry peeked too.

“Who are we looking for?” he asked.

Liam huffed. “Harry.”

“Sorry,” Harry said. “Top secret.” He focused extra hard now.

Liam should have told him to stay down. Because he didn’t want Harry doing something stupid and blowing his cover.

He should have told Harry to stay down for plenty reasons. The biggest one, he hadn’t predicted.

His father, George, exited the building up ahead as Liam suspected he would. It was some pub that he went to frequently, just a bit out of town, which was why Liam and Harry had needed their bikes.

There was a woman with him this time though, not a family friend (Liam had never seen her before), and definitely not a relative.

“Hey, it’s your dad—” Harry’s voice fell off, the same time Liam’s heart dropped into his throat. Harry turned away when Liam’s dad took the woman’s chin and leaned in, like the sight might be personally offensive to him. Liam didn’t look away. He saw their lips meet. He saw his dad push his tongue into the woman’s mouth. He wanted to see everything. So that if he ever mustered up the courage to ask his dad about it, he couldn’t lie about anything.

He never would though. Muster up the courage, that is.

“Should we leave?” Harry asked after what seemed like hours of silence.

Liam shook his head. He couldn’t even speak, too afraid that if he tried, his voice would break.

Harry didn’t ask anything else. He waited, ducked behind the car with his legs curled up to his chest. Across the street, his father pulled away in his car. Liam waited until he was out of sight and finally, exhaled a breath.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

They got back on their bikes and rode in silence all the way back to the park. That was where they stopped, just outside the park entrance. It was dark now, with fireflies lighting up the space around their heads.

“I have to go home. Not supposed to be out this late,” Harry said. He kept one foot on the pedal, one on the ground.

“See you.”

“Liam, I’m sorry about— I don’t know, I’m just sorry,” Harry said.

Liam didn’t say anything. He felt too much to put any one thing into words.

“See you at school tomorrow?” Harry asked.

Liam nodded. Harry lingered for one more second and then he lifted his foot from the ground and pedalled away. Liam turned on his bike and did the same.

+

**12 December 2014**

Zayn was asleep when Liam found him in the library. He had a book open in front of him but his arms were crossed over top of it and his face was nestled in the bend of his elbow. Sunlight streamed in from the windows, falling on his warm honey-kissed skin and his long lashes.

He was so pretty, Liam almost got choked up, almost didn’t have the courage to talk to him. _Almost_.

Liam pulled the chair out across from Zayn, its feet squeaking on the linoleum and Zayn’s eyes fluttered open. He sat up quickly, his big eyes falling on Liam. He frowned, stretching his arms out in front of him, cracking his knuckles.

“Sorry. Did I scare you?” Liam asked, taking a seat.

Zayn squeezed his eyelids. “What are you doing?”

Liam looked around. “Sitting.”

“What are you doing _here_?” Zayn said.

“I go to school here, didn’t you know?”

Zayn gave him a look. “At this table. _Here_ , in front of me. What are you doing?”

“Just wanted to say hi.”

Zayn sighed. “Mate. What is this?” he asked flatly. “All week you’ve been, like, walking me to class and now you’re stalking me at the library.”

“I’m not stalking you. I just happened to see you,” Liam said.

“Okay, whatever. Point is, people are starting to think we’re dating or something. Including my brother. So like, whatever you’re playing at, stop? Please?”

“I’m not playing at anything.”

Zayn crossed his arms. “Then what is this?”

“Honestly?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to be honest,” Zayn said.

Well, that was a good point.

“I like you,” Liam said. “That’s all.”

Zayn’s brows creased. “You like me.”

“Yeah, as in, I think it’d be nice if we were dating. And if you think about it, it’s beneficial for everyone. You and your brother get protection. And we get to kiss and stuff.”

Zayn looked at him like he was daft. “We don’t need protection. We’ll be fine. And in order to date someone, both people have to like each other.”

“You’re saying you don’t like me? Even a little bit?” Liam asked.

“I’m saying you can’t assume that I do.”

“Okay. Do you?”

“I just met you.”

“That’s not really an answer…”

“What’s the deal with you and Harry? Why don’t you like him?” Zayn asked suddenly.

That stopped Liam completely. He thought he’d gotten off without having to explain himself. He thought Zayn had forgotten, which was wholly unrealistic. Zayn pinned him with those dark, relentless eyes, which upon first glance seemed doe-like and meek, but weren’t so at the moment.

Liam cast his own eyes downward at the dark cherry wood of the desk. “We’ve just never gotten along.”

“That’s not what he said.”

“Oh, you’ve been talking to him?”

“I’ve talked to him once. But that’s what he told Louis yesterday,” Zayn explained. “Said _you’ve_ never liked him. That you come after him ‘cause he’s weak.”

Liam scoffed, “I don’t.”

“So then what is it?”

“He just pisses me off,” Liam shrugged. “He just— I don’t know, he thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“He doesn’t seem like that kind of person.”

“You wouldn’t know. You just got here. You don’t know anything about him.”

“Don’t know anything about you either, except that people are afraid of you. Oh, and you ‘like’ me. But not enough to be honest, apparently,” Zayn said, standing up. “Anyway, I’ve got class.”

Liam watched him collect his books, gnawing his bottom lip as Zayn stuffed the books into his rucksack.

He hated to feel weak like this, to feel like out of his depth. It was all the more reason to distance himself from Zayn. His dad would say so too.

But Liam didn’t want to. And his dad wasn’t here.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said, quickly. “I can be honest. Just—”

Zayn clutched the strap of his rucksack while he listened and waited.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, yeah? Could I take you out then?” Liam asked. “If you like me even a little? It’ll be fun. And I’ll be honest about whatever, I promise.”

Zayn stared at him, shaking his head like he was saying no. “I’ll think about it,” he said instead.

+

Liam walked to the locker rooms to catch Zayn before he left to go home, hoping he had an answer for him. Particularly, a positive answer.

Louis shot Liam a mean glare as he and Zayn stepped out of the locker room. Or as mean of a glare as he could, being an omega. Liam wasn’t at all intimidated, but annoyed? Absolutely. Louis walked past him, while Zayn slowed to a stop in front of Liam.

“Heard you’re joining the football team,” Liam said.

“Yeah. Coach saw Louis play and that was all it took really,” Zayn said.

“You’re pretty good yourself, aren’t you?”

Zayn shrugged, smiling. “I’m pretty good, yeah.”

Liam ran his eyes over Zayn’s fluffy dark hair. It was windblown but framed his face sort of like a halo.

Zayn glanced up the hall. Liam didn’t have to look to know Louis was hovering nearby. As if he’d leave the two of them alone for long.

“So,” Liam began.

Zayn turned his big brown eyes towards him and Liam's heart beat oddly. He couldn’t say he liked it. Not quite sure he hated it either.

“It’s probably not a good idea for us to go out,” Zayn said.

Liam’s mouth snapped shut. He hadn't expected that. He should’ve but he didn’t. “Because your brother said so?”

Zayn huffed a laugh. “No. Because _I_ said so,” he said. “But if you keep making assumptions, I’ll just say no.”

Liam raised his brows. “Is that not what you’re doing?”

Zayn hesitated before he spoke. “I’m saying just this once, we can hang out or something. But just this once. And only because you owe me an explanation about you and Harry.”

Liam nodded eagerly. He hadn’t even processed the rest of Zayn’s sentence. He could work with “just this once.” He only needed once to turn things around.

“I gave my number to one of your boys. The red-haired one. Text me,” Zayn said. “And I’ll see you tonight.”

“I will,” Liam said. Zayn stepped past him. Liam watched him stroll away. He waited until Zayn rounded the corner with Louis to run off in search of Richard.

+

**13 December 2014**

“I can’t stay out late,” Zayn said when they were clear of his house. “Louis’ covering for me.”

He was wearing a puffy black coat that made him seem small and in need of a hug.

“Oh,” Liam said. “Well. Thanks for sneaking out.”

Zayn shrugged. “So, where to?” he said, his breath pluming in the cold.

Well, Liam had been planning a movie. But they apparently didn’t have a lot of time. He needed to regroup and replan. But he didn’t have time for that either.

“Do you want to just walk?” he said stupidly.

Zayn’s lips split in a small smile. “I like walking,” he said.

So that’s what they did. Walked and talked. About the weather first (because Liam was such a loser and couldn’t think of a better way to break the silence).

And then about trees because Zayn was apparently in love with them. Biology, that was his thing. He couldn’t figure out what he’d rather spend his life doing: if he’d like to draw or teach children about plants. Liam told him he should do both.

That discussion brought them to the comic book store. And while they perused the shelves, Zayn charted 50 years worth of comic history for Liam, educated him on all the legends, the heroes and the villains alike. And Liam was content to listen for as long as Zayn would talk. He loved the way the excitement lit his face like a star, how he gestured with his beautiful hands and spoke fast-paced with his beautiful mouth.

They bought each other comics. For Zayn, Liam bought the newest edition of his favourite comic. And Zayn bought him the first.

“I’d let you borrow mine, but I guarantee you’ll like it enough to want your own,” he’d said.

“You’re probably right,” Liam said smiling, genuinely excited about reading the comic when he got home. Zayn’s eyes lingered on his mouth and then he looked away.

They went for McDonald's and bought smoothies and a large order of fries to share. Liam wanted to pay for the whole thing (not that it cost much). He was the one who’d asked Zayn out after all. Zayn wasn’t having it. He paid for half with some money that materialized from his pocket.

And they ate by the window on high swivel chairs, turned in to face each other. Zayn was swinging back and forth sort of languidly, sipping his smoothie and glancing outside.

“It’s actually sort of nice here. Can see the stars okay, too,” Zayn mumbled, not even to Liam, just to himself.

Liam peered out the window and up towards the sky. “I never really watch the stars.”

“You should,” Zayn said, reproachfully. He ate another fry. “My dad’s an astronomer, you know? Well, Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Technically, he’s a professor. He teaches science. But he studies astronomy, like as a side hustle.”

Liam laughed. “A side hustle. Is that why you want to teach too?”

“Maybe,” was all Zayn said.

“You never told me the long version. You don’t have to but if you’d like…”

Zayn sighed. “My dad’s in France like I said. He got offered a position as a dean at some university. Originally, he was planning to take me and my sisters with him. But we’d all been together for so long by then. The girls met when they were just babies, you know? And I wanted to stay with Louis too. So my dad left us with Jay. And we left the big house in Cheshire and ended up back here where Louis grew up.”

Liam was quiet for a moment. Zayn took a sip of his pineapple-mango smoothie. “Do you miss him?” Liam asked.

“Less and less every day, but not a day goes by where I don't think of him,” Zayn said. “You know they say absence makes the heart grow fonder but I think that’s bullshit. At least in this case.”

“Probably. My dad left four years ago,” Liam explained tentatively. Zayn turned away from the window and looked at him. That didn’t really make it any easier to talk but Liam forced himself to anyway. “I haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

Zayn had stopped sipping on his smoothie. The straw hovered near his mouth.

“Sounds like a shit dad,” he mumbled.

Liam shrugged. “That’s him.” He was surprised he agreed with Zayn so easily. Normally he’d never let someone talk that way about his dad. He never let Harry get away with it, at least.

Zayn’s phone buzzed where it sat near the tray of scattered fries. He glanced it at.

“Looks like my mum just asked where I was,” he said, dusting salt off his fingers. “I have to get back.”

They stood and dumped their trash. Liam walked slowly. He was only maybe a centimetre taller than Zayn but he shortened his strides so they didn’t reach Zayn’s house too soon.

“Do you have a favourite constellation?” he asked.

“Nah. I haven’t learned about them all yet. Think it’d be unfair to pick a favourite before I do,” Zayn replied.

Liam huffed a quiet laugh. “I knew someone who’d say things like that all the time.”

Harry, actually. He’d say things like that all the time. Ever the good Samaritan, the righteous one, the gentle one.

Zayn was studying him now, his brows creased. “You know, you seem to have a lot of secrets.”

That took Liam a bit by surprise. He blinked, his mouth parted. “Everyone has a lot of secrets, don’t they?”

“Yeah but maybe not as many as you,” Zayn said. His house came into view ahead. Liam panicked a little. He hadn’t even kissed him. He really wanted to kiss him. A hug, at the very least, would do.

Liam reached for his arm, held him back. Zayn looked at him confusedly.

“I’d tell you,” Liam said. “My secrets. All of them, I would.”

Zayn made a face. “Not all of them. No one does that.”

“I would. For you.” Liam held onto him. “Just maybe not all at once. But if you gave me the chance and time.”

Zayn’s eyes fell to his lips for only a second, quickly like he didn’t want Liam to catch him doing it. But Liam did. It was incentive enough for him to lean in.

At the last possible second, Zayn turned his head and let Liam’s lips brush his cheek. His heart was racing. Liam could actually hear it. He let his forehead drop to Zayn’s shoulder.

“Why’d you do that?” he mumbled.

When Zayn spoke, his voice was unsteady. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I just got here, you know?” Zayn said. “I probably shouldn’t be rushing to date anyone.”

Liam leaned away from him. “We could just kiss and then you could decide about all that later,” he said. And everybody wins.

Zayn seemed to actually consider this. “Or not.”

Liam forced a smile. “Well, I tried.”

Zayn huffed a laugh and studied Liam in the quiet that remained.

His eyes actually seemed bigger in the nighttime, feline and bottomless, like they could just swallow Liam up. Liam should have been scared then, even though alphas weren’t meant to fear anything.

Except Liam wanted to be swallowed up by Zayn. He wanted to fall into Zayn and get lost and never find a way out.

“I think you’re a nice person,” Zayn said. Liam braced himself. This sounded like one of those rejection speeches. _You’re nice but not for me._

“Except no one else seems to think so. Why is that?” Zayn said, determined to keep Liam guessing what he’d say next.

“I’m not this nice to everyone else,” Liam admitted after thinking it over. He wasn’t nice to anyone else actually. This probably wasn’t the thing to say to get Zayn to like him. But he had little to lose.

Zayn didn’t seem put off at all. He didn’t seem surprised. “Why?”

Liam shrugged. “People expect me to be tough. My dad and my pack. It’s just how I am. It’s like— It’s how I have to be.”

“I’m sorry you think that,” Zayn said. “But you don’t have to be any way other than how you want.”

Liam’s lips twitched in a smile. How optimistic.

“It’s not that simple,” he said.

“You’re right. It’s not.” Zayn reached up to lace his fingers in Liam’s collar. He leaned in a little closer. “People have been telling me to stay away from you, you know?”

Liam’s eyes darted over his face and his pretty lips. “You probably should.”

“But it’s not that simple,” Zayn echoed him. “Because I don’t think I want to.”

Liam waited. Was he even breathing?

“You, Liam— you can be kind if you want to be kind.” Zayn pulled him in by his collar. He leaned in as close as he needed to put his lips right in front of Liam’s. “Just like I can kiss you if I want to kiss you.”

Liam nodded. “Yeah,” he said stupidly.

Zayn didn’t move. His eyes found Liam’s. And his phone started buzzing in his pocket.

“But maybe next time,” Zayn said. He’d probably planned for his phone to ring right then because he was determined to keep Liam pining.

Liam was finally able to exhale when Zayn stepped away.

“I’ll walk by myself from here,” he said. “See you on Monday, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. “Goodnight.”

Zayn started off down the pavement and didn’t turn and look back once before he got to the door. Only once he pushed the door open did he glance down the street. It was dark though and Liam didn’t think Zayn could see him. But maybe he knew he was there.

+

**17 December 2014**

There were people who’d liked Liam, who he’d found tolerable enough to pretend he liked them back. Like Ian, one of the few omegas at their school who was open about his sex, or Allen, the kid he’d met last summer.

But this thing with Zayn was different.

Liam hadn’t ever found someone he thought about when he woke up in the morning or before he fell asleep, while he was showering or eating dinner or failing to do his homework. Zayn was always on his mind, as if he’d set up permanent camp there.

And they weren’t even official.

And maybe they wouldn’t ever be.

Liam saw Zayn approaching him where he was seated on the bleachers and he stood and hopped down to the green grass of the pitch. He’d been hanging around after football practice the last two days mostly because Zayn looked really fucking good in his kit. He also thought it’d be nice for Zayn to see what a supportive boyfriend he was capable of being.

Zayn always greeted him with a smile that lit up the whole pitch. This time, when Zayn saw him, his jaw was locked. And then he was in his face.

“You hit him,” he said.

Liam’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“I heard from Louis that you hit Harry,” Zayn said more clearly, propping his one leg up on the seat of the metal bleacher.

Fucking Louis. Liam opened his mouth to respond.

“Don’t lie to me,” Zayn warned, his fist momentarily curling at his side like he actually wanted to fight.

It struck Liam then how serious this was. He wasn’t talking to a teacher. He wouldn’t be able to wiggle his way out of this one, not with Zayn.

“Why’d you do it?” Zayn asked.

Liam wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. “He just pissed me off.”

“So it’s his fault?”

Liam started to nod and ended up shrugging. “That I hit him, sure.”

“Alright. What did he do?” Zayn countered.

Liam hesitated. “Look, I didn’t mean to do it, okay? We should talk about your game instead.”

Zayn made a noise of contempt, turning on his cleats. “Nah. I’m going home.”

“Zayn, come on,” Liam said, reaching for him.

Zayn turned on him, pulling his arm away. “Answer me this. Did you hit him because he didn’t give you fucking notes for math?”

 _Fuck_.

Liam couldn’t answer the question. He couldn’t lie. Nor could he very well tell the truth.

In his defence, those notes had been essential for Liam to pass his test. And Harry usually always got a copy of them to Liam in time. But lately with Louis around, it was a wonder Harry stopped daydreaming long enough to do anything.

So, Harry forgot. Liam failed his test. And then he got angry.

When he’d confronted Harry after class though, he hadn’t done so with the intention of hitting him. If Harry hadn’t mouthed off, Liam wouldn’t have had to. But Rich and Dave were with him and Liam had to maintain appearances and all that. The last thing he needed was to look weak in front of his pack.

Right now, Liam couldn’t think of a way to answer Zayn quickly enough. But he didn’t have to.

Zayn shook his head. “His fault, right?” he said. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Without another word, he turned and left.

+

So, right, the last three days had been fun while they lasted. But Liam was pretty sure that Zayn’s refusal to answer any of his texts was a clear sign of things being over.

Liam would be over all of this by next week. Zayn was too good for him anyway. And honestly, he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with Liam. And his brother was bloody annoying, like a bird sat outside his bedroom window, singing and tweeting at the arse crack of dawn.

Yeah, it was better off this way. Absolutely. So what if Liam would never know how soft Zayn’s lips actually were? So what if they never went on a proper date? So what if he never made him laugh again?

So fucking what.

Liam hadn’t even liked him all that much. It was just a phase because Zayn was new and weird and whatever. Liam was over this shit. So over it. Definitely. Good bye, Zayn.

In other news, there was no way Liam would fall asleep tonight.

How was it that he'd managed to fuck this up already? In less than two weeks?

He pulled out his phone. Of course there weren’t any messages from Zayn, even though Liam had sent him four. Five now, because he couldn’t help it.

 **7:05 pm:** I’m not a good person. But I can be better. I promise.

There. If that still didn’t work, well… Liam didn’t know but he’d figure it out.

He locked his phone and tucked it under his pillow. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow and shut his eyes. They were closed only for a second before he heard his phone hum beneath him. He pulled it into the open and squinted against the bright screen in the dark.

 **7:06 pm:** _Can you come talk?_

Liam sat upright, the duvet falling away from his body.

 **7:06 pm:** Now?

 **7:07 pm:** _Yes. At the park._

Liam didn’t even need a second to decide. He was already pulling on his trainers and grabbing a jacket.

 **7:07 pm:** I’ll be right there.

He ran to him, so fast he was actually out of breath by the time he reached the park. Zayn was sitting on a swing, pushing himself back and forth.

“Nice of you to make it,” Zayn said, looking much calmer than he had this morning, way more than Liam would have expected. He slowed the swing down to a stop.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, you know,” Liam said, trying to control his breathing to make it less apparent how he’d overexerted himself. Alphas weren’t supposed to get overexerted.

Zayn made a face. “The only one worried is you.”

“Apparently,” Liam said.

Zayn pointed to a paper bag near his feet. “I brought you the next three editions of X-Men,” he said. “So you’ll have something to read regardless of how this goes.”

Well. Liam couldn’t say that was comforting. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” Zayn replied. “Are you gonna sit?”

Liam walked to the swing beside Zayn and sat down. He wrapped his arms around the chain links, digging the toes of his shoes into the wood chips beneath them.

“Louis isn’t speaking to me right now,” Zayn informed him.

Liam frowned down at his hands folded in his lap. “’Cause of me?”

“Yup,” Zayn said. He looked at him. “So here’s the deal. I can’t stick up for you with him anymore. I won’t have him hate me. He’s my family.”

“Okay,” was all Liam could think to say.

“You have to tell me now, whatever happened between you and Harry,” Zayn said. “Because I like you. Way more than I probably should.”

Liam’s skin prickled with heat, all along his cheekbones and ears and neck. He looked away, aware this wasn’t the right time to smile but the corners of his mouth threatened one anyway.

“And before I say that to Louis, it’d be good to know what I’m actually getting myself into,” Zayn added.

Liam understood. Zayn needed the truth, laid out and bare, so he could judge for himself if Liam was worth keeping. Liam really wanted Zayn to keep him.

“I need you to tell me now,” Zayn said again.

So Liam did.

+

**2 March 2011**

Liam could deal with his dad hitting him.

Each punch or push had a purpose. They were essential to making him a better alpha, he knew. He never questioned that.

What Liam didn't get was George hitting his mother.

He hadn't ever seen him do it. He just saw bruises. On her cheeks. Her neck. Collarbones. Wrists. Once when he was younger and she'd been naked as she was getting into the shower, he'd seen a few on her back, her hip, her thigh.

He'd seen them and hadn’t understood. He still didn’t.

His father wasn’t the nicest person, sure. But Liam had always thought an alpha was meant to protect his omega, and it confused him that his dad might do the opposite.

Alphas got away with a lot of shit in general. Abuse and mistreatment of betas and omegas was frowned upon but it happened all the time. And so long as no one found out, it would keep happening. It was just the way it worked.

To no one’s surprise, it didn’t work that way for Harry. His family was actually perfect, even with Harry being the only proclaimed alpha in the house. They never fought, were always smiling when Liam saw them, and were always eager to extend a hand in charity.

Recently, Harry and his dad had just finished the tree house in their backyard. Meanwhile, at Liam’s home, his dad was nowhere to be found and Liam’s bets were on him occupying a bar somewhere or the bed of another woman. He was 10, yeah, but he wasn’t stupid.

In terms of father-son bonding, if his dad found time to knock him around a bit, Liam would count that.

He didn’t tell Harry much but Harry must have known things were different at Liam’s house. He definitely knew about the cheating and maybe he knew George was hard on Liam too, even if he didn’t know how.

Maybe Harry suspected it was the reason Liam spent so much time at his house lately.

That was only part of the reason. Mainly, it was the tree house. Liam was honestly in love with Harry’s tree house.

He was currently reclined on the oak floors studying the posters Harry had already begun taping up all over the space.

“You know these are going to get ruined when it rains,” Liam said.

Harry had just climbed up the ladder with his lunch box, probably stuffed with ham and cheese sandwiches and juice and grapes. “My dad said he sealed the roof to stop rain from getting in.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Liam mumbled. Of course, his dad had sealed the roof. Liam wouldn’t be surprised if the tree house had flying capabilities too.

“What happened to your face?” Harry asked.

Liam didn’t look up. He turned his head to hide the dark purple bruise near his eye. “Ran into the door.”

“Oh.” Harry put his lunch box down and shuffled around inside. He pulled out an ice pack. “Here. Use this.”

Liam studied it warily for a second. Then he took it and held it to his eye.

Harry smiled.

Liam looked away. “Thanks.”

“Sure,” Harry said. He reached back into his lunchbox and pulled out neatly wrapped sandwiches. “My mum put two of everything in here. Except the yoghurt. We only get one yoghurt each ‘cause too much dairy isn’t good for you.”

“I don’t even like yoghurt,” Liam said.

Harry’s eyes widened. “We have pudding cups too. I could run down and get you one.”

“No. This’ll do,” Liam said. He actually liked yoghurt quite a lot.

Harry looked relieved. “Alright, then. Ready to do maths homework?” he asked.

Liam sighed and sat upright, cross-legged in front of Harry and their notebooks. “Suppose so, yeah,” he said reluctantly.

He wasn’t good at math at all but Harry was dedicated to teaching him what he could. Often times, he’d just end up telling Liam the answers. Their arrangement worked well for them both. Liam didn’t fail his assignments and Harry felt like he’d done his part, even if it was “technically cheating” and his mum “would be cross with him” if she found out.

It worked because Liam got a few hours of peace in Harry’s tree house. Sometimes he even got in a nap. There were endless snacks while they were hidden away above the world and a warm meal courtesy of Harry’s mum waiting whenever they decided to climb down.

Life was good at Harry’s house.

It was perfect.

+

**9 March 2011**

“So, my mum said to ask if we could do homework at your house today? She’s having the walls in the kitchen painted,” Harry said. “Lots of fumes, you know?”

Liam adjusted the brim of his baseball cap, squinting his eyes against the sun. “We don’t have to do homework together today.”

“Yeah, but we have a test tomorrow,” Harry countered.

Liam would really rather not do homework at his house. Harry had only been to Liam’s house once before. His dad had been drunk as usual, sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. He hadn’t taken too kindly to Liam bringing another alpha into the house, even one like Harry. Later in the night, Liam’s mum had come into his room and sat on the edge of his bed.

“It’s nice that Harry came by,” she’d said, petting Liam’s head. “But maybe next time you should play at Harry’s house.”

Liam had just blinked at her, unable to see her full expression in the darkness of the room, save for the places where bands of moonlight streaming in from the blinds lit her face. He hadn’t needed to see. He understood clearly.

Harry didn’t visit Liam’s house again. And Liam had intended to keep it that way.

“What about your tree house?” he asked Harry.

“Well, since the kitchen’s being painted, my dad thought it’d be a good idea to paint the tree house too. We’re going with blue,” Harry smiled. Liam didn’t.

“It’s okay. I don’t need to study or anything,” he said.

“But we have a test.”

“I don’t really care.”

“Let me at least make a copy of my notes for you,” Harry said starting to remove his rucksack, which was stupid because they were in the middle of the hallway with no place to write. Also, any minute not a teacher would come by and they’d both get in trouble for skipping class or something.

Not that Liam cared about that either.

“No. Forget about it,” Liam said. “I mean it. Go to class. See you tomorrow.”

Harry was actually pouting. He was so weird. He looked like he was about to protest again but Liam started walking away before he could.

+

Liam heard the growl of his father’s engine in the drive right before it cut off. He’d been trying and failing to study any bit of his maths, and now it wouldn’t matter. He’d be lucky if he had another chance to tonight.

He picked his textbook up off the couch and fled the living room, climbing the stairs two at a time. He made the landing just as the front door creaked open and George Payne’s heavy boots hit the hardwood floors.

Liam wasn’t looking where he was going and collided with his mother, sending him stumbling back. The clean folded sheets she’d been carrying fell to the floor.

“Sorry,” Liam said, hurrying to pick them up.

“It’s alright, love.” She stooped down to collect them too.

“Grace!”

Liam flinched, and then he thought about how alphas weren’t supposed to do that. But his father’s voice had always reminded him of thunder. Not the low rumbling kind. But the sudden claps that came after moments of calm and stopped unsuspecting hearts and set off car alarms for miles.

“Dad’s home,” Liam said to his mum, unnecessarily.

“Coming!” his mum called. She looked away from the descending staircase. She touched Liam’s cheek. “Put these towels away for me? And get to studying on that test of yours.”

Liam nodded. He took the towels from her.

“I’ll call you down for dinner when it’s ready. Go on,” she said, touching his head gently, sweeping his fluffy hair to the side.

“Grace!”

She stood and started down the steps. “I’m here, George.”

“When I call, you should come right away,” Liam heard his dad say.

“I’m sorry. Might I help you?” she said.

Liam stood and went to the linen closet. The stack of towels was too big in his arms and he had to crane his neck to see around them. He didn’t store them neatly in the closet like his mum might have. He was sort of desperate to get into his room right away.

“Liam!”

Liam had just shut the cupboard door. Now he froze with his hand on the wood grain. Not so lucky then, was he?

He sucked in a breath and hurried down the steps. “Yes, sir.”

George handed him his mum’s wallet. He knew it was hers because his dad’s wallet tended to be empty. “Run to the store and ask Simon to buy two cases of beer for you.”

Liam glanced at his mum, standing in the kitchen near the stove, her back to him. Liam took the wallet, though he doubted she was okay with him doing so. He wasn’t about to ask.

“Go now,” George said.

“Yes sir,” Liam repeated. He grabbed his shoes and hurried out the door, slipping them on once the front door was shut. The store was close by and he shortened the distance even further by running.

Simon, one of the store clerks, was luckily outside having a cigarette, his head bowed as he scrolled through his phone, the screen glowing blue on his face

“Simon,” Liam said, out of breath and hunched over.

Simon looked up and frowned when he saw him. “Ah, not again,” he said, his voice muffled by his cigarette. He yanked it from his mouth. “I’m not buying shit for your dad.”

Liam’s mouth hung open with the lack of a response.

Normally the way this happened, he handed his money to Simon, and a few minutes later, Simon dropped the beer in his arms. No questions asked. He hadn’t been prepared to deal with a hitch in the system.

“My boss knows what’s up and it’s a miracle I haven’t been fired,” Simon said. “Your dad’s gonna have to find some place else to buy liquor. Tell him I said so.”

Liam licked his lips. “I can’t—Please just one more time. I can’t go home without his stuff.”

Simon shook his head. He took a long drag on his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, crushing the smoking end with his ratty trainers. “Sorry, man. Tell your dad to stop sending minors to fetch his booze. Fucking arsehole,” he mumbled.

The bells over top the door jangled when Simon stepped inside, and when the door swung shut a second later. They were death tolls, and the walk home seemed now like a journey to the end.

Liam stood there blank-faced squeezing his mum’s wallet between his hands. He looked around in search of someone else to help. If he had a phone he could try calling his cousin, Sam. But his dad would be furious if he did. He hated to involve others in their business. What happened in the Payne household was meant to stay right there.

Liam didn’t run home. He walked, slowly, like each step drained him a little more than the one before it. He approached the front door like it was the end of a plank.

“Liam!”

Liam looked behind him, his eyes widening. Harry was hurrying up the steps, his hair windblown and a smile on his face. Harry was always smiling. Now more than ever, it was sort of infuriating.

“Hey,” Harry called, coming to a stop. Too loud.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Liam said.

“I came to bring you notes for math. I know you said you didn’t need them but I just finished making a copy of mine, so—”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Liam repeated. “You have to go.”

Liam heard the sound of glass shatter. From the way Harry’s eyes widened, Harry must have too. His father’s voice was suddenly loud. He heard a few choice words he’d grown familiar with and a few he was just learning.

“What’s going—” Harry started to mumble.

“Go now,” Liam said, pushing Harry back with one hand. And then the front door swung open, the knob slipping from Liam’s other hand, and the light from his home flooding the stairs, blinding them both.

George glared down at Liam, his eyes bleary and unfocused. “What are you doing?”

For a second, Liam thought of how small they were in comparison to his dad. Alphas or not, they were no match for him. Not that Liam was planning on opposing him. He ducked his head like a shamed pup and spoke that way as a sign of respect.

“Harry was just coming to drop off notes for school,” Liam said.

“Where’s the beer?”

Liam hesitated. “Simon—he wasn’t there.”

Liam was pretty sure Simon was one of those secret omegas, the ones who soaked themselves down with that concealing spray. He picked up a faint scent on him every time. Either way, as much as Simon had mouthed off at the store, Liam doubted he was willing to actually go up against his dad.

To exactly no one’s surprise (maybe not even Harry’s), George didn’t look pleased.

“Get inside,” he said.

Liam glanced at Harry.

Harry was holding the notes in his hands. Now Liam could see they were shaking.

George reached out, twisting his fingers in Liam’s collar and yanked him inside. He heard the door slam shut behind them, as his father tossed him down and he hit the hardwood floor with his bottom.

“I’ll deal with you later,” he said to Liam, stalking off toward the kitchen where his mum was sweeping up the remnants of a broken beer bottle.

Without warning, George reached out and grabbed her by her blonde hair and yanked her up. “Listen to me,” he said. She reached up and held onto her head where the roots of her hair were being pulled away from her scalp. Liam got on all fours and crawled over to the kitchen, lingering just at the entrance.

George pulled her over toward the hob, toward the pan of popping oil.

"I shouldn’t have to deal with this when I come home, with you disrespecting me the way you have. What am I, Grace? Did you forget?”

She shook her head.

“What am I?”

“My alpha,” Liam thought he heard her say. As he crawled, he accidentally pressed down on a broken piece of glass, hard enough that it cracked further. His mum’s eyes snapped downward and she noticed him there.

“And what are you?” his dad asked, his voice gravelly.

"Stop," she choked out. She extended her hand, her finger jutting out in Liam’s direction. "Liam."

She wanted George to see that Liam was still in the room. Because maybe that would get him to stop, because every time before, Liam had never had the misfortune of witnessing his father’s violence against his mum. But the thought only terrified Liam more than he always was. Because he could just leave, yeah, but he wasn’t sure what his dad would do if he did.

"Go to your room.” George didn’t even turn to acknowledge him. He must have thought Liam would just listen. Normally, Liam would.

But he stayed put, wringing his hands in the hem of his shirt.

His dad turned his head, setting his eyes on him. "Did you hear me?"

Liam didn't budge.

"Liam," his mum said. "Go upstairs, darling."

“No,” he said. He looked at his dad, and then dropped his gaze when their eyes met. "You're hurting her.”

“Liam,” Grace hissed.

“Shut up,” George said to her. To Liam, “You wanna watch then? Good. You need to learn never to let a bitch disrespect you.”

Grace made a noise in the back of her throat, something that encompassed all the terror and frustration she must have been feeling right then. She flicked her hand in Liam’s direction, still just trying to get him to leave. George got her wrist too and then twisted it behind her back.

“Now, listen to me,” he said to her.

Liam wasn’t sure if his mum actually listened. He certainly wasn’t. He started to move just as he heard the creak of the front door opening again. But he didn’t care about that either. Nothing mattered except his mum, her delicate hand wrenched behind her back, the same one she’d used to brush his hair away from his forehead and tuck the blankets around his body late at night when she thought he was asleep. He saw her and the pan of oil and the only alpha he was meant to respect and obey. Then he was pushing himself up off the floor and rushing toward his parents.

He’d been watching this anime recently. He couldn’t remember the name of it. But the main character was a boy who had out-of-body experiences all the time. The coolest part was that whenever he left his body, he was taken over by a superhero that went around Japan saving citizens in peril.

Liam felt like that boy. He wouldn’t remember any of what he did in that moment. Maybe he kicked his dad in the shin or punched him in his side or bit him. Whatever he did, it got his dad’s attention, just maybe not how he’d expected.

George grabbed him by the collar again. He spared no words for him only a slight glance, like Liam was a gnat buzzing near his ear. He shoved him away with such force Liam thought he was flying like a gnat too, propelled backwards, completely out of his control.

There was an exposed brick wall in the kitchen, with jagged pieces of stone jutting out in some places. His mum had always wanted it knocked out and replaced with drywall. When he was younger, she’d always tell him to “mind the wall,” for fear of him hitting his head on it.

He understood why when he fell into it. He heard his mum scream. He heard someone else scream to his right— _Harry?_ He heard nothing from his dad. And then he heard nothing at all.

+

**11 March 2011**

Liam woke to a stark white ceiling, pale blue walls, and a telltale beeping nearby.

“Hello, there.”

Liam looked to his left at the woman standing there dressed in a white doctor’s coat. His nostrils flared and his brow creased when he caught her scent. He hadn’t met any female alphas before. They were about as rare as male omegas.

“I’m Dr O’Shannon,” she said, clicking her pen. “What’s your name?”

Liam opened his mouth to speak and then found he couldn’t. His mouth felt like he’d swallowed ash.

Dr O’Shannon handed him a cup filled with water. Liam drank the whole thing, keeping his eyes on her. He didn’t know how to feel around female alphas. His dad had always told him not to trust any alpha aside from him. But she seemed nice enough.

“Liam,” he said.

She nodded. “And how old are you?”

“10?” he said. “I turn 11 this year though.”

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked.

Liam licked his lips. His eyes shifted to the window. It was morning now. He was supposed to be in school. They had a big math test, didn’t they? He would have failed anyway.

He remembered bits and pieces of things. The heavy thud of his dad’s boots, oil popping on the hob, a chorus of shouts. There was nausea accompanying those vague memories but he couldn’t say why. The in-between matter drifted further into the void but Liam wasn’t sure he wanted it to come back.

“Not everything,” he said.

“You hit your head. You’ve been asleep for about a day and a half, which is quite good considering your injury. I’m happy to say you’re going to be just fine.”

Liam smiled a bit. “Cool.”

“It looks like you’re speaking normally too,” she said, smiling. “In that the case, there’s a gentleman outside the door who’s going to come speak with you. He’s from the police department. Is that alright?”

Liam nodded, only slightly confused by the mention of police. Dr O’Shannon smiled again. She clicked her pen once more and tucked it in her pocket. She went to the door and let the man in. He was a portly lad with a balding head and a thick moustache. That didn’t make much sense to Liam. It seemed the man’s hair choose where and when to grow.

“He’s good to speak. His memory’s not all there so go easy on him,” Dr O’Shannon said. She shot Liam one last smile before stepping outside.

“Hello, Liam,” the man said, coming to the hospital bed and taking a seat in the chair by the window. “My name is Charles.”

“Hi,” Liam said.

“How are you feeling?”

Liam shrugged. “Weird, I guess. Could eat.”

Charles laughed, though Liam hadn’t meant to be funny. He wanted a burger, chips and a chocolate shake.

“Your mum’s waiting outside. I’m sure she’s got a nice meal waiting for you when you’re free to leave.”

That got Liam feeling a bit more awake. “My mum’s here?” he asked.

Charles nodded. “And your friend, Harry?”

Liam’s brow creased. That was weird.

“I have a few questions for you, Liam. I’ll try to keep them as simple as possible. I want you to know that your mum is aware that I’m asking you these questions, and you have permission to answer as truthfully as possible. You can also ask me to stop at any time.”

Charles pulled a pen from his pocket just like the doctor had, along with a small black box that Liam thought was a voice recorder. He flipped to a clean page in his notebook and then cleared his throat.

“Do you know why you’re here, Liam?” Charles asked.

“Hit me head is what they said,” Liam mumbled.

Charles nodded. “How did you hit your head?”

Liam’s eyes lifted to the ceiling as he thought. “Um, there’s this wall in the house. My mum hates it ‘cause it’s pretty dangerous. And I hit my head on that.”

“Did you fall?”

Liam frowned. He must have been thinking too hard. Memories flooded back to him, still its pieces, but he saw the full picture now.

They say that without trying very hard, a full-fledged alpha can lift three times his weight. Liam had always thought that was a load of shit. But right then, he remembered his dad pushing him. He remembered the strength he’d exerted with just a flick of his wrist, and Liam thought that maybe it wasn’t so unbelievable after all.

Liam looked at Charles and suddenly his presence here made sense too. He shook his head. “I must have—  I slipped.”

Charles stared at Liam. “You slipped?”

“Yeah.”

“On what?”

Liam licked his lips. “The floor was dirty. With a little oil from the frying pan.”

Should he have said that? Would they use that to say his mother was negligent?

Charles nodded, scribbling across his notepad. “Okay. Where were your parents when you slipped?”

Liam shifted on the bed, feeling his back begin to ache. “My mum was in the kitchen. And I don’t think my dad was home.”

“You have a bruise fading beneath your eye there,” Charles said, pointing with his pen at the bottom of his own left eye. “How’d that happen?”

“Ran into the door,” Liam said.

“Not the best luck, huh?” Charles set his pen down and studied Liam, a little frown on his lips and a crease between his brows. “Is Harry Styles your best friend?”

“I don’t have a best friend,” Liam said. “But I guess Harry’s close.”

Charles nodded, writing that down. He looked up. “Did you know Harry was there the night you…slipped?”

Liam vaguely remembered that, yeah. “He was there for a second, I think. Then he left.”

“That’s not what Harry says,” Charles said. “He says he came inside because he heard a lot yelling.”

Liam’s heart stomach and dropped into his stomach. He drew in a breath that he found hard to exhale. He didn’t speak. Charles had flipped to the previous page of his notebook, filled with notes, maybe things Harry had said. He was reading from them.

“Harry says you looked scared when he saw you.”

Liam swallowed the planet-sized lump in his throat. He would kill him. _Scared_ ? Liam didn’t even _get_ scared.

“He says he stepped inside when he heard the yelling and he saw you and your parents in the kitchen. And you were kicking and punching your dad.”

Liam shook his head. “No, that’s— he’s lying.”

“Why would Harry lie about that?”

“I don’t know. Because he’s a liar.”

“Does he usually lie to you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why would Harry lie about this, Liam?”

Liam thought he would throw up. He didn’t want that fucking burger anymore. “I don’t know,” he said again. “Ask him.”

“Harry said that your dad pushed you into the wall and that was how you hit your head,” Charles said.

Liam’s eyes burned and filled with tears. He bit into the inside of his cheek, curled his hands into fists. Alphas didn’t cry. “Where’s my mum?” he said. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Charles nodded, closing his notebook. “Alright. I’ll call your mum in. I didn’t mean to upset you, Liam,” he said, standing up. “We’re just trying to get to the bottom of all this.”

“Where’s my dad?” Liam asked. Not because he wanted Charles to call him in too. But because he didn’t think he’d like the answer.

Charles hesitated. “We don’t know. He hasn’t been seen since you were brought in.”

Liam worried that any attempt to respond would come out sounding like a cry.

“I’ll go find your mum then,” Charles said.

“No,” Liam croaked. Charles paused. “I’m fine on my own.”

Liam was going to cry. He hadn’t done so in a while. Not when his dad hit him or when he’d seen him with that woman. But it was all too much for him now. Every feeling he’d been tucking away came reeling forwards. And he didn’t want anyone in the room to witness what happened next.

Charles seemed to understand. He turned without another word and left, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Liam blinked around the room, his throat growing sore. His face began to crumble, bottom lip trembling. He turned over in the hospital bed, tucking his face in the starchy cotton bedding and he stopped being the alpha his dad would want him to be. For now, he needed to just be Liam.

+

**17 December 2014**

Liam didn’t tell Zayn about the crying in the hospital part, or that eventually his mum had come in and rubbed his back until he fell asleep.

Zayn was so quiet Liam thought he’d frozen solid. It was bitter cold out and they’d been sitting on these swings for almost an hour.

Zayn had asked a few questions here and there, about Liam’s parents and Harry especially. But now, at the conclusion of Liam’s story, he remained silent, staring up at the sky, his lips pressed together.

“I’m sorry all that happened to you,” he said finally, his voice cracking before he could finish.

Liam shook his head. “It’s alright,” he said. “Not your fault.”

“Whose fault is it?” Zayn said.

Liam shrugged. “My dad’s, I guess. And mine. And Harry’s.”

Zayn sighed. “I get it, why you think you should blame Harry.”

Liam clenched his jaw and gripped the chain links a little tighter.

“But you do realize he was just trying to help, yeah?”

“I think Harry thought he was helping. Because he thought I needed his help. He thought it was his job to help everyone because he had it so much better. But all he did was fuck us over.”

Zayn didn’t have a response for that. He looked down at his hands folded in his lap.

“If Harry hadn’t told the police what he did, my dad wouldn’t have run. He cleaned out my mum’s account, took the money my grandparents left for me. He packed all his shit and some of ours too and got out of there before we came back from the hospital. Harry opening his mouth was the reason this turned out the way it did,” Liam said. “Alphas handle their shit on their own. They don’t get the police involved.”

“You were just kids,” Zayn said. “I doubt either of you knew what you were doing.”

“Even so,” Liam said. He didn’t really want to talk about this anymore. He felt he’d said enough for one night. “That’s what happened. So now you know.”

Zayn hopped off his swing. “Thank you for telling me.”

Liam looked at him warily. “So, what does this mean?”

Zayn slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “I need to think,” he said. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“At least let me walk you home?” Liam asked.

Zayn hesitated for a second. “Yeah, alright,” he said.

They walked in silence, side-by-side but there might as well have been a valley between them. Liam knew Zayn didn’t understand. He hadn’t really expected him to.

There was a code among alphas. You handled things within the community, across packs, alpha to alpha. What Harry had done was proven once again that he wasn’t worthy of the label, and unfortunately in doing so, he’d cost Liam his family.

Liam knew things hadn’t been perfect at home. But the last person who had the right to judge was Harry with his fancy tree house and his perfect parents and his really fit sister. Harry should have known to keep his nose out of Liam’s business, especially when he’d never be able to understand how that business operated.

Sure, they’d just been kids. But that had never been a valid excuse for Liam. And it wouldn’t be an excuse for Harry either.

+

**18 December 2014**

Zayn sought Liam out after school when the hallways had cleared out and the look on his face read ‘bad news’. He came with his rucksack thrown over one shoulder, his coat in his arms, and his red scarf hastily looped around his neck. The sleeves of his cardigan were a little too big which made Liam think it belonged to his older sister or something.

“Hi,” Zayn said with a smile that missed his eyes. “I can’t talk long ‘cause Louis and I have to go get dinner started for the girls.”

“Okay. I don’t need long,” Liam said. “I like you a lot.”

Zayn’s expression turned sad. He glanced down the hall and then down at his feet. “I know that.”

“I don’t like many people,” Liam said.

Zayn nodded. He glanced up, his eyes falling on Liam’s lips and then returning to his eyes. “Yeah, I know that too.”

They stood in silence for a second. Zayn sighed.

“Okay, listen. I feel the same about you, Liam, I do. But you’ve got a lot going on, mate. And this thing with Harry is confusing. And I just don’t think I can—”

Liam chose right then to kiss him. He hadn’t meant to. It was rude to cut him off while he was speaking. Liam would apologise afterwards. But the words “I feel the same” began looping in his head and he had to act. And once he got started kissing Zayn, he couldn’t really stop.

And Zayn didn’t push Liam back or break his mouth away. He dropped his coat and held tight to Liam’s uniform shirt at his waist and let Liam tilt his head back to deepen the kiss. They snogged like that, right up against the lockers for who knows how long. It was only the tapping of a teacher’s heels coming down a nearby corridor that made Liam break away.

Zayn’s face was pink and his eyes bleary as Liam stepped away. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and then dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. Liam took a few steps back, just as the teacher appeared and went in the opposite direction, sparing only a glance for the two students looking suspiciously like they wanted to fuck right then and there.

“Why’d you do that?” Zayn asked, voice small and husky.

Silly question, really. “I’ve wanted to since I first saw you picking those flowers. That didn’t even make sense. They were dead. And you wanted them anyway. You’re just— You make me want to be around you, all the time, and see everything the way you see it.”

Zayn licked his lips again, looking conflicted, curling his hands into fists at his sides. “I never said you could kiss me.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam said.

Zayn rested his head back against the lockers, exhaling. “You just made this a lot more difficult for me.”

“It doesn’t have to be difficult. You like me. I like you. Can’t we just see how it goes?” Liam said.

Zayn met his eyes again, frowning as he thought. “My brother doesn’t like you very much.”

“I’m sorry about that too,” Liam said. “But I can do better, I told you. You just have to give me a chance, love…”

Zayn’s expression softened. They gazed at each other. Zayn licked his bottom lip again and Liam ached to put his own mouth there again.

“Alright.”

Liam’s eyes widened. If he hadn’t been staring at Zayn’s mouth when the word was spoken, he wouldn’t have believed it. “Alright?”

Zayn adjusted the strap of his rucksack. “I didn’t stutter, did I?”

Liam smiled so widely he thought his face would burst. “Does that mean I can kiss you again?” he asked.

“No,” Zayn said, pushing away from the locker behind him. “You don’t get a second kiss after you stole the first one. Sorry, babe.”

“Can I ring you tonight?” Liam asked feeling giddy even though he was essentially being refused.

Zayn started down the hall towards the doors. He turned and shrugged, but he was smiling now. “If you want, yeah.” Without another word, he pushed through the doors, momentarily lighting the hallway, and then he was gone.

+

**16 January 2016**

Liam didn’t bother Harry anymore. Except for when he needed math notes. Or his history papers written because, you know, Liam knew jack shit about history.

As long as Zayn didn’t find out, they were all good. And on that note, if Louis was kept in the dark too, Liam would be a happy man. The latter proved difficult however with Louis enlisting himself as Harry’s unofficial watchdog.

Probably because he hated Liam and sought every opportunity to oppose him.

Mostly because Louis had a massive crush on Harry.

It was pure speculation, but Liam had enough evidence, he thought.

He caught Louis staring over at Harry’s lunch table every day without fail. In Ms Nixon’s class too, Louis and Harry sat in the same row, two seats away from each other, and sometimes Louis would glance at him for a second or two, always managing to look away before he got caught. At football practice, while Liam sat at the top of the bleachers waiting to walk Zayn home, he’d see Louis do it there too. He clearly couldn’t keep his eyes off him.

In his defence, Harry was just as hopeless. Just as guilty and far less stealthy. He openly watched Louis like a dope until Niall clubbed him over the head or snapped his fingers in front of his face.

Liam had a field day watching it all unfold. As odd and unbelievable as it seemed, Harry and Louis were head over heels, arse over tit, completely and irreversibly gone for one another.

But Louis was well out of Harry’s league, in Liam’s honest opinion. He found him annoying as hell, but the lad was still gorgeous. He had an arse on him that reminded Liam of peaches you only got during the summer. Louis was one of the most desired people in their school. And Harry, with his mess of curls that sometimes covered his eyes and caused him to trip, just wasn’t.

Yet, Louis liked him.

He really, really liked him.

And he proved it that Saturday in January when he found Liam sitting on the couch in their living room. He stepped inside with a cup of tea and a look on his face Liam couldn’t read.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Waiting for Zayn,” Liam said. He didn’t even know why he bothered answering him.

Louis took a sip of his tea. “Where’s he gone?”

“Neighbors’ house to pick up one of your sisters.”

Louis nodded. “Cool. Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked.

Liam narrowed his eyes. Yeah, fuck no. Louis would definitely slip him some arsenic and call it a day. “No thanks.”

Louis shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he said. He took a seat on the armchair opposing Liam, crossing his legs at the ankles. He was approaching a heat. Liam could scent it faintly in the air, which was just annoying. Liam rubbed at his nose, looking away from Louis.

“Want to hear a fun fact?” Louis asked. Liam didn’t answer. Louis didn’t need him too. “In the winter and spring for some reason, me and Zayn have heats around the same time. Like we’re synchronized or summat. It’s pretty cool.”

Liam sighed. He looked down at his hands in his lap, his head bowed like he was in prayer, and you know what, praying was actually a good idea right now. He impeded God to grant him the strength to make it through this conversation.

“So, you know, in case you couldn’t pick up on _my_ scent, you might be a little bothered by Zayn’s later this week,” Louis said.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Liam said.

“Of course, mate,” Louis said, putting his cup of tea down. “You know, I have to ask while I can. What exactly are your…intentions with my brother?”

“Why are you still talking to me?” Liam asked.

“Don’t be hostile. I’m just curious,” Louis said. “You want to fuck around a bit maybe?”

Liam clenched his jaw.

“I bet he wouldn’t mind if you asked. But I’d warn you not to expect too much. And I’d _hope_ you weren’t thinking he’d mate with you,” Louis said and added on a condescending little laugh. His expression changed to one of dismay. “Oh, no, _wait_. You were, weren’t you?”

Louis’ sass was suddenly ascending to new levels each second. He was good at verbally assaulting people, and he knew it.

“Jesus, you poor lad. I think I realize now why you’re such a shit person. I’d be too if I knew I’d set myself up for such massive failure.”

Liam just looked at him. He didn’t know exactly where this was coming from. And while he’d never admit it, the whole thing was taking him a bit by surprise. Louis was upset, Liam could see that now, but he didn’t know why and he couldn’t think of a way to respond.

“I’ll let you in on a secret, yeah?” Louis said. “Zayn likes fixing broken things, and right now, he’s set on you. But he can’t see yet what a waste of time this is. And for that, I’d say you’re lucky. ‘Cause when he does, he’s gonna drop you so fucking hard on your arse, you’ll wish you never met him.”

Liam curled his hands into fists.

Louis raised his brows. “Oh, no, do you want to hit me now? That’ll score you a few points, I bet.” Louis was a smug motherfucker when he knew he was winning, when he knew there wasn’t anything Liam could do.

“My brother’s a million times better than you. When he’s done with you, I’ll be glad for the both of us,” Louis said, leaning forward, propping his arms on his knees. “In the meantime, stay the fuck away from Harry.”

Liam smiled, his heartbeat still thudding loud in his ears while he struggled to control his anger. But at least now, he had something to fight with. “So, that’s what this is about. You don’t care that I’m with Zayn,” Liam said. “You care that you aren’t with Harry.”

Louis glared at him. He still had that small smile on his face, though this one was a little less smug.

“I hope you don’t think I’m standing in the way of you two, cause I’m not,” Liam said. “I just hope Harry has it in him to be the alpha you need him to be, which you know, he doesn’t.”

“Fuck you,” Louis said, standing, and walking to the steps. “Enjoy it all while you can, pal.”

Liam must have gotten to him, at least a little, because Louis forgot his cup of tea.

+

**20 April 2016**

“I think Louis likes Harry.”

Liam muted and looked away from the T.V., although he hadn’t been paying attention to it in the first place. Zayn was sitting right beside him, drawing, looking pretty as usual, and also…nearing a heat. His scent was all over the place like a smoke screen, and Liam was having a hard time concentrating on anything aside from him today.

“Why do you say that?” Liam asked.

“I don’t know. It’s not any one thing that makes me think so. At practice, he’s always kept an eye on Harry. And he gets really mad when some of the boys on the team make fun of him.”

Liam shrugged. “Well, Harry’s still shit at football, isn’t he?”

Zayn narrowed his eyes at him. “ _Anyway_ , Louis’ always done that stuff. And I’ve always known Harry liked Louis ‘cause I think he makes it more obvious.”

Well, yeah. Liam knew all that already. But for Zayn’s sake, he would pretend otherwise.

“But then there was the party in February remember?”

Yeah, Liam totally remembered that party because Zayn let him go down on him in Stan’s basement, and made sounds Liam still couldn’t get out of his head. It hadn’t been a very good blowjob, considering it was Liam’s first time doing that to anyone. But Zayn didn’t know that, and he seemed to enjoy it just fine.

“Are you listening to me, Liam?” Zayn said, frowning.

Liam nodded. “Yeah. You’re talking about the party.”

Zayn made a face. “I _said_. Louis was sort of weird after Harry showed up. Like he kept looking for him.”

Liam honestly didn’t remember much other than the basement blowjob. He’d gotten a bit too drunk on that sunset punch, which he suspected Louis had concocted solely to fuck Liam up.

“And then he got completely wasted,” Zayn said. “And he said Harry’s name a few times but I couldn’t make sense of any of it. And then Harry and Niall happened to show up and helped me carry Louis to bed. And while I was gone to find Stan, I don’t know what happened, but they might have kissed or something. I came back and Harry was cherry red in the face and Louis was all slumped over him. I didn’t know what to make of it.”

Well, that wasn’t good.

Liam was quiet for a second.

“Even if Louis did like him, Harry’s never going to do anything about it.”

Zayn frowned.

“Seriously, Harry’s too scared to ever do something like that. And Louis deserves better than that, don’t you think?”

Liam sure could talk some shit when necessary. He didn’t know about Louis deserving better or anything like that. Louis was annoying as fuck and since Harry was too, maybe they would make a good combination.

But the thing was if Liam someday had a chance to mate Zayn, and things worked out well between Harry and Louis, that’d make him and Harry brothers-in-law or something. That was scary enough as is. Not to mention, Harry was a weak alpha. Linking his future pack with Harry’s was bound to be disastrous.

“You still don’t like Harry. I know that,” Zayn said. “But if Louis wants Harry, then I vote for Harry.”

“You want your brother with someone who’s not strong?” Liam questioned.

“I want my brother with someone who makes him happy,” Zayn countered.

Liam didn’t agree with any of this. If that was the point, Louis could just as easily find a nice beta to settle down with. Or another omega even.

“Why not find someone for him who’s both?” Liam said. “I can do that. I know tons of people.”

Zayn looked back down at his sketch pad. “There’s nothing wrong with introducing him to them. But like I said, if Louis wants Harry, he’s going to be with Harry.”

Liam unmuted the T.V. and tried to focus on it again. But now he was distracted by not only Zayn’s scent but their conversation too.

He had to find someone for Louis. It was either that or subject himself to family bonding with Harry the Alpha Who Couldn’t. Maybe he was jumping the gun. But he knew better than Zayn what was going on between Harry and Louis. And if things were progressing at all, it meant Liam needed to pick up the pace too.

Anyway, Zayn smelled really good, and Liam was tired of not touching him.

Zayn’s pencil stilled over his sketch pad and he looked at Liam questioningly. “What?”

“What?” Liam repeated.

“You’ve just been staring at me for a whole minute,” Zayn said. “Do I have something on my face?”

He did have a smudge from the charcoal pencil he was using on his chin. But it was insubstantial, and he still looked beautiful.

“No,” Liam smiled. “Just think you’re beautiful is all.”

“Hm,” Zayn pretty much scoffed. Liam was almost offended. “Well, so are you,” Zayn said.

Liam’s brows shot up. “You think I’m beautiful?” he said in astonishment. “ _Really_?”

“No. I take it back,” Zayn said.

“Aw. No, really. You think I’m beautiful?” Liam said.

Zayn looked at him, a small smile on his face, and then he looked back down at his sketch pad. “You’ll do.”

Liam scooted closer. “Do you want to give this beautiful boy a kiss?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Wow. Go away,” Zayn said, pushing him down the couch with his feet.

“Hey. Come on,” Liam said coming close again. Zayn kept trying to kick him away. Liam captured his foot in his hand, secured his fingers around his ankle. “Seriously, I want to kiss you.”

“I’m drawing,” Zayn said. He didn’t protest though when Liam crawled between his legs.

“One kiss?” Liam asked, settling on top of him. He pressed his mouth to Zayn’s jaw. “Please?” he murmured.

“I’m nearing a heat,” Zayn said.

“I know. I’ll be careful. I promise,” Liam said. “Just one.”

His lips were hovering over Zayn’s now and they stared into each other’s eyes, waiting for nothing. Then Zayn inclined his lips to Liam’s. The sketch pad slipped out of his hand and fell to the ground. The pencil followed a second later.

Liam was mindful about Zayn’s heat but he’d had to physically push himself away or he’d never stop. The one kiss had turned into nearly a hundred.

+

**28 August 2016**

Liam didn’t celebrate his birthday on account of never having anyone to celebrate with him. If he was lucky his mum would remember to bake a cake. But when his dad had been around he’d always made it seem like birthdays were a sign of weakness. To his dad, everything was a sign of weakness.

He was surprised when Zayn asked him to come to the park for a “birthday surprise.” Zayn attached a picture of a map he’d hastily drawn with a circle at the entrance of the park labelled “Start here” and an X deeper in the park labelled “Find me here.”

Seemed like a birthday scavenger hunt more like. But Liam wasn’t complaining.

He found Zayn after traipsing through the woods for much longer than Zayn had probably intended. Zayn was sitting in the grass atop a blue picnic blanket, holding a cupcake.

“Not good with maps, are you?” Zayn said.

Liam smiled. “I manage. I got bitten by something on the way here though.”

“Clearly didn’t respect you being an alpha,” Zayn said.

“I can't tell if you’re serious or mocking me.”

“It’s a mixture of both. Sit,” Zayn said, nodding to the blanket

Liam walked over and plopped down in front of Zayn, his eyes going from Zayn’s eyes to his lips and then to the cupcake in his hand. Zayn picked a lighter up from the blanket and lit the solitary candle in the centre.

“So, Happy Birthday,” Zayn said. “You get one wish ‘cause I couldn’t find any more candles.”

Liam laughed. “Well, at least I get one.”

“Hurry up and blow it out before the wind does it for you. I hear that’s bad luck,” Zayn said.

Liam stopped laughing long enough to make a wish, something about being with Zayn forever, and blew out the candle. And then he leaned past the cupcake in Zayn’s hand and kissed him.

“Thank you,” he said.

Zayn smiled. “I baked more than one cupcake by the way. But like, you don’t need all of them right now. And I rented your favourite movie. And my mum made dinner. And I got you the collector’s edition of the Dark Night—”

Liam kissed him again, reaching up to take the cupcake from him.

“I did good, yeah?”

Liam took a bite of his cupcake. “I’d definitely say so,” he said with his mouth full.

“Also there’s something else, one more thing,” Zayn said.

“But you’ve done so much,” Liam mumbled.

“Yeah, but, this is different,” Zayn said shuffling forward.

Liam’s brows creased. Zayn put his hand on Liam’s thigh, and slid it upward. Liam watched its ascent, his chewing slowing.

Zayn licked his lips. “Okay, I don’t know how to prompt this but also I think it would be weird if I just started sucking you off, so.”

Liam choked on his cupcake. “Wait, what?”

“I want to suck your dick,” Zayn said, matter-of-factly.

Liam’s eyes widened. He looked around. “ _Here_?”

“Yeah, why not?” Zayn said, running his hand over the front of Liam’s trousers. Liam’s breathing went shallow.

“Did you know a long time ago our ancestors would fuck in the woods?” Zayn said. “That was the whole point of having scents the way we do. Made it easier to find your mate amongst the trees and squirrels and shit.”

Liam couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Yeah, who isn’t? My _point_ is that this is fine. This is the way it’s done.”

Liam laughed again but this kind was bordering on nervous. They blinked at each other. Zayn was the only person in the world who put him in a stupor like this, his heart racing but his mind slowing down. Zayn had a chemical effect on his body and they weren’t even mated.

“You don’t have to. If you don’t want to,” Liam said.

“It was my idea, you wanker,” Zayn said, reaching for his zipper. “Of course I want to.”

Liam still didn’t know what he’d done to be so lucky. He leaned in and kissed Zayn again. Zayn got his hand around his dick.

They’d done things like this before—clumsy, sloppy hand jobs in Liam’s room while his mum had been at work, and of course, there was Liam’s less than stellar blowjob on Valentine’s Day. But in general, they were moving remarkably slow with one another, compared to others their age who’d had sex already. Not mated, though. They were all still too young for that, weren’t they?

It didn’t mean Liam didn’t think about it. It was kind of hard not too with Zayn’s heats and the fact that he started slicking up whenever they so much as made out. Liam would smell it in the air and his throat would always go dry like he hadn’t had a sip of water for years. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to touch, just to see what it felt like, and there were other things too that he thought of doing. So many other things.

Every day, he thought about mating Zayn. But on this one thing and this one thing only, he was actually compelled to agree with Louis. Zayn deserved better than an alpha like Liam. Liam was strong, yeah. But chances were he’d turn out just like his father.

And how in the fuck was he keeping up with this inner monologue when Zayn had just licked his dick?

Liam made the most embarrassing noise like a distressed baby lion and Zayn looked up at him with pretty brown eyes and a smirk before licking him again.

He had a glorious set of lips. Bubble lips was how Liam would describe them. But when they wrapped around him, he felt like he was the bubble, on the brink of bursting whenever Zayn moaned around him.

He was doing that on purpose, the moaning. It sent vibrations all through Liam’s body, made his toes curl. He slid his fingers through Zayn’s silky hair. Zayn pushed his head into the touch like a cat.

The smell was in the air again. Zayn couldn’t help it and it wasn’t like Liam wanted him too. But it was overwhelming, more than ever before with Zayn sucking and moaning and slurping him down. It was all too much and Liam couldn’t resist the way he always had.

“Zayn,” he said, his voice rough.

Zayn looked up at him, his lips and chin wet, his eyes misty.

“Come ‘ere.”

Zayn’s brows creased. He sat up, licking his lips. “What is it?” he said. Liam took a second to glance around, just to make sure they were out here alone. But he couldn’t smell anything aside from Zayn for meters.

Liam brushed his hand over the waistband of Zayn’s jeans. “Take these off.”

Zayn got a look in his eyes then, suddenly eager and desperate even if he didn’t know exactly what Liam had in mind. He pulled off his jeans quickly and dropped them somewhere on the blanket, before shuffling close, straddling Liam’s lap.

“I want to touch you,” Liam said.

Zayn looked at him and nodded, his nose brushing Liam’s. “Do it,” he said leaning in to press a kiss to his mouth.

Liam swallowed, feeling choked up on the scent, and the realization of what he was about to do. He brushed his hand over Zayn’s back, sliding his hand down, down, down until he was past Zayn’s bum. He kept going until his fingertips came away wet.

Zayn pressed his face into Liam’s neck. “Come on then,” he murmured.

Liam moved carefully, sliding his fingers between Zayn’s crease. His forefinger met puckered skin and Zayn moaned before Liam really had done a thing.

“Come on,” he said again.

“So impatient,” Liam said.

“Oh, fuck you—”

Liam chose then to push his finger past Zayn’s rim, and Zayn stopped complaining, his voice falling into a gasp.

“Perfect,” Liam mumbled into his collarbone, pressing a kiss there. As much as he liked Zayn slumped over him like this, he couldn’t see his face. And being that this was his first time, he wanted to see it all.

He leaned forward, spreading Zayn out on their picnic blanket. Zayn’s legs fell open, his eyes focused on Liam. Liam withdrew the one finger and went in with two.

“Fuck—” Zayn hissed out, turning his head into the blanket, exposing his neck. Liam kissed him there, started on a mark below his jaw. He was tempted to bite but knew the implications of that, the same way he knew that as much as he wanted to fuck Zayn, neither of them was ready for what could happened afterwards.

And anyway, Zayn was going crazy enough for two fingers, and then three, starting to fuck himself on Liam’s fingers, groaning and curling his fingers in the blanket. He came suddenly, striping his tummy, his shirt and Liam’s too. He wiggled out from under Liam, still panting heavily, his eyes unfocused, and got back onto all fours. He pushed Liam back and without pausing for a second, he got his mouth back around him, sucking hard and with more vigor now than before.

Liam pulled at his hair, stuttering out a groan, pressure building around every nerve ending in his body. Zayn dug his fingers into Liam’s thigh and then wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, above the part beginning to swell, and pumped him fast. He pulled his mouth away.

“Someday you’re gonna fuck me, yeah?” Zayn said to him.

Liam focused his eyes on him.

“And knot me…”

Liam squeezed his eyes shut. Zayn kept stroking him but it was what he said that hit Liam harder.

“…And make me yours.”

When Liam came, Zayn licked all around his hand, down the length of Liam’s cock, over his knot, and back again. Eventually, he dropped his head to Liam’s thigh, sucking in big breaths of air, each time he exhaled his breath tickled the hair on Liam’s skin.

Liam smoothed his fingers through Zayn’s hair and watched him. His heart rate began to settle, his knot began to go down, and the question floating around in his head pressed forward for an answer.

“Did you mean that?” Liam asked.

Zayn opened his eyes slowly. His lips curved in a smile. “Yeah, I did.”

It would likely never happen but Liam relished in the thought anyhow. In terms of birthday surprises, he didn’t have much to compare this too, but this would always be the greatest one.

+

**12 January 2017**

He’d known this would happen from the minute he’d seen Zayn a year ago. He just hadn’t known when.

For Zayn’s birthday, Liam took him to the zoo, which Zayn was just as excited about as Liam predicted he'd be. Zayn happened to know more about the animals than the guide did and he kept murmuring in Liam’s ear whenever she said something wrong.

Maybe it was that and the magic of the wildlife around them that got Liam feeling all emotional.

Maybe it was just the way Zayn lit up like the brightest star in the universe.

Maybe it was the way he held Liam’s hand and let Liam kiss his.

Whatever it was, they were halfway through the tiger exhibit when it hit Liam hard.

His dad would say that alphas didn’t fall in love. But now, for once, Liam could say he was wrong.

Zayn was pulling him along, dragging him this way and that, and Liam felt content to follow him anywhere.

Because he loved him.

Liam was in love.

+

**4 December 2017**

Liam didn’t understand why Harry couldn’t just stay in his fucking place. Maybe if he did, they could all have some semblance of peace around here. Confronting him was a pain in the arse, to be honest, and it was never worth it to have Zayn mad at him.

But Liam and Ralph had formed an alliance of sorts, which simply meant Liam could always count on Ralph, and Ralph could always count on Liam. It meant that after all of Liam’s hard work setting Louis and Ralph up, he didn’t need for Harry to come along and fuck the whole thing. It meant that when Harry decided to stop playing by Liam’s rules, Liam and Ralph had to do something about it.

The fucking nerve of Harry to show up at Ian’s party, to spend the whole night with Louis, to disappear with him--

Things had been going well between Louis and Ralph, for Christ’s sake. Louis had seemed genuinely interested and now it was over. Louis didn’t even want to share at lunch table with him.

And Zayn was mad at Liam now too. Because trying to set Louis up with someone other than Harry had backfired, because Louis had relocated lunch tables and wanted nothing to do with any of them, it seemed. Somehow it was all entirely Liam’s fault.

 _“If you hadn’t pushed Harry away, Louis wouldn’t feel the need to isolate himself,”_ Zayn had said. _“You need to fix this. Squash this shit with Harry ‘cause he’s not going anywhere.”_

Liam was fed up with everyone. Honestly, Louis could do whatever the fuck he wanted from now on. If he wanted a wimpy alpha, so be it. But Liam wasn’t about to go apologizing to Harry. Fuck that.

He was in a fury when he got home that day, slamming the door, kicking off his shoes. He didn’t even notice the other pair of large boots by the door. It was the smell that got him.

Just as he was starting up the stairs, it hit his nostrils, made them flare, and the panic started there and spread throughout his body, locking him in place, all 206 bones in his body turned to ice.

He saw him standing in the kitchen then. The very last place he’d seen him six years ago.

George _smiled_ , this twisted, malicious line that had Liam’s blood running cold. Liam met his eyes and then dropped his gaze, still annoyingly submissive after all this time. His father walked closer, reaching out to grip Liam’s shoulder.

“What did I tell you about controlling your anger?”


	16. Chapter 16

**13 January 2018**

**11:44 pm:** _I’m at the park in need of a blowie._

Harry didn’t need to be further persuaded, but Louis hadn’t stopped his incessant texting since.

 **12:05 pm:** _What on earth is taking you so long???_

Harry huffed. He was bringing lunch, that’s why -- more sandwiches from his mum because she couldn’t resist making food whenever he was meeting Louis. Harry thought it was to goad Louis into coming by for dinner, which was unnecessary. Louis probably wouldn’t mind coming for dinner. Harry just hadn’t invited him.

He was getting to it. Really, he was.

His phone buzzed again as he passed Tesco. He fished it from his back pocket.

 **12:07 pm:** _I’m giving you one more minute and then I’m having a wank._

 **12:08 pm:** Could you not? I’m almost there.

 **12:09 pm:** _Currently unzipping my trousers._

Harry started walking a little faster. He was close to breaking into a sprint but he was worried about ruining the pie packed in his rucksack. He happened to glance to his right just then as he was speed walking, and his eyes fell on a man exiting Tesco with his hood pulled up over his head.

He couldn’t quite see his face but he caught his scent, even from across the street. It was familiar and unnerving even if he couldn’t say why. The man saw him too, or smelled him, or whatever, and it seemed they were looking at each other for too long, long enough that Harry grew uncomfortable and hurried on his way.

“I just aged fifty years sitting here,” Louis announced when Harry finally came strolling toward him. He was sat atop one of the picnic benches hidden away in the back of the park.

Harry lifted his brows. “You look amazing in your old age.”

Louis smiled. His wispy hair curled over his forehead like a crown. “I see you brought lunch,” he said. “Too bad all you’re having for now is me.”

Harry’s skin heated some. He dropped his rucksack at the foot of the bench. “You’re sure you want to do this out here? It’s a little cold.”

“Then come warm me up,” Louis said, like it was obvious. He was pulling Harry closer now. “You know, Zayn once told me that our people did this shit all the time, fucking in the woods. It was custom. In fact…” Louis said, sliding his hand around the back of Harry’s neck, running his fingers through his curls. “The first time you fuck me, I suggest we do it outside.”

Yeah, now Harry was blushing. But with their lips locked, Louis he couldn’t see. He’d been saying things like that a lot lately. But it was always hard to tell with Louis if he was dropping hints or taking the piss.

“There’s no one around right?” Louis asked.

Harry’s brow furrowed. And after a second, he understood. He looked around, gave the air a little sniff, and he trusted himself enough to say, “No. It’s clear.”

“Good,” Louis said, unbuttoning Harry’s jeans.

“I thought—” Harry began.

“Changed my mind," Louis said, a second before his cool lips were on him.

They were sitting in the grass a bit later, Louis’ head in Harry’s lap, while they munched on turkey sandwiches.

“My mum had another talk with Zayn,” Louis said.

“What about now?”

“Niall.”

Harry stopped chewing. “Why?”

“’Cause she thinks Niall has motives. She says alphas and omegas don’t hang out like him and Zayn do unless there’s something going on.”

“But Niall’s just being nice,” Harry said.

“I think so too. But you know my mum. She thinks every alpha has motives,” Louis said. “She even gave me a talk about sex and suppressants recently. She said to make sure you don’t accidentally pop a knot, or we’ll have a repeat of Zayn and Liam. But I told her we aren’t even doing that yet.”

Harry looked down at him. _Yet_? Their eyes met. Louis smiled.

“Liam and Zayn mated accidentally?” Harry asked, desperate for a diversion.

“That’s what Zayn told me after it happened,” Louis said. “But he was happy about it. They both were. Not so much now, I guess.”

“He still hasn’t told you why they’re fighting?”

“Nope,” Louis said. “And I’ve kind of accepted that he never will.”

Harry frowned. Louis shrugged like he didn’t care, but Harry knew better than that.

“I saw Liam yesterday after Zayn’s party,” Harry said. “He was standing outside when I left.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “You should hit him one good time. It’d make everyone feel a lot better.”

“I feel like I already did. I said some things to him that I don’t feel all that good about anymore.”

Louis tilted his head back on Harry’s thigh to look at him. “Whatever it was you said, he’s had it coming.”

“Even so.”

Harry thought it would feel good. At first it had. Saying what he said. Seeing the look on Liam’s face when he did.

But afterwards, later when he was lying in bed, it had haunted him, kept him up long after Louis stopped responding to his texts.

Harry wasn’t that person. He’d never been that person. And he didn’t want to start now.

“Hey,” Louis sat up and looked at him closely. He pushed his fingers into the curls at the base of Harry’s neck, rubbed his scalp gently. Harry relaxed instantly, his strings cut. Louis scooted close and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What’d you say to him anyway?”

Harry found it a little difficult to concentrate now with Louis so close, running his nose over Harry’s cheek. “I told him to stay away from Zayn,” Harry mumbled. “And I said that he only knew how to hurt people.”

That last statement was especially awful in Harry’s opinion. He remembered about a month ago, sitting outside of Louis’ house and talking to Zayn. Zayn had said that Liam thought he was only good at hurting people, he’d said that wasn’t the truth. And even if Harry still wasn’t convinced, he felt wrong having turned around and thrown that in Liam’s face.

“All statements I agree with,” Louis said, interrupting Harry’s train of thought.

Harry wasn’t surprised. “Yeah but I didn’t need to say them.”

“Someone should.”

Harry pulled back and looked at Louis seriously, willing him to understand. “But not me. Not like that.”

Louis studied him for a second. And then he nodded. “Because you’re not that kind of person,” he said. “You’re good. You’ve always been good. Best alpha there ever was.”

Harry’s stomach started with the somersaults again. He held a little tighter to Louis’s waist and leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his lips. Sometimes it still amazed him that he was allowed to do that. Or that Louis kissed him back, always just as eagerly. He deepened the kiss and moved closer like he wanted to climb into Harry's lap.

And then, of course, Harry had to ruin the moment.

“I never told you what happened between me and Liam," Harry said. "You asked but I never got the chance to tell you."

Louis licked his lips, his eyes a little bleary. “Did I ask? I don’t even remember.”

“When we were at Ian’s. You asked what happened to make Liam hate me so much.”

"Right," Louis said. He pulled his hand away from Harry’s hair. “Do you want to tell me now?”

“I think I probably should,” Harry said.

Louis sat up straight and attentive. “Alright then. I’m listening.”

+

**9 March 2011**

Harry knew Liam was smarter than he let on. Even if he didn’t care to make people think so. He didn’t care about studying or learning like Harry did, which meant all those negative points Liam received on his assignments were always more offensive to Harry than they would ever be to Liam.

And so using every bit of knowledge his eleven-year-old mind possessed, Harry made it his mission to help him. Eventually, “helping” him turned into giving him answers. And giving him answers turned into just doing the homework for him to turn in. Harry felt bad about it all, but as long as his mum didn’t find out, it’d be fine. And Liam was his friend, his only friend.

And the math test tomorrow was really important.

Harry finished up the notes while his mum was out buying dinner since she couldn’t use the kitchen with the fresh paint still drying. His dad was in his office in the basement and wouldn’t come out for a while. Gemma was tucked away in her room, as usual. Harry had maybe ten minutes but that was enough to make it to Liam’s house and back.

He couldn’t take his bike, or his mum would notice. She noticed everything.

He chose to run instead.

He hadn’t even tied his shoelaces properly. But there was no time for shoelaces. There was no time for anything but shortening the distance between his house and Liam’s. He passed Tesco. He passed the entrance to the park. He cut across the street, looking both ways twice. He kept running and running, until right up ahead he saw the exterior lamp by Liam’s door was on…

…And right at the door was Liam.

“Liam!” Harry shouted, out of breath, but so close. It was great that he was outside. He could hand off the notes and dart back home without a hitch. God, this plan was genius.

“Hey,” he said. Liam said something, his voice more quiet than Harry was used to. “I came to bring you notes for math. I know you said you didn’t need them but I just finished making a copy of mine, so—“

“You shouldn’t be here,” Liam said louder now. “You have to go.”

Harry blinked at him. He didn’t understand at first. He never understood anything when it came to Liam. Why he pretended to be stupid when he wasn’t. Why he had said he didn’t like yoghurt when he’d devoured his entire cup and then proceeded to eat Harry’s too. Why he had been determined to watch his dad kiss that woman who wasn’t his mum. Harry never understood.

But then a glass shattered, the sound echoing from the thin sliver of light between the door of Liam’s home and its frame. Harry felt his eyes grow wide as George Payne’s voice boomed like sharp, sudden claps of thunder.

Harry knew it was him because he’d heard it before, months ago while he’d been waiting for Liam outside of school, and Liam and his dad were parked in the car on the curb. Liam sat in the passenger seat, his head bowed, lips unmoving. It didn’t seem like he’d given his dad anything to yell about but George was yelling anyway.

“What’s going—” Harry begun to say now.

Liam gave Harry a push in his chest and he stumbled back, the notes almost slipping out of his hand. But he held them tight. “Go now,” Liam said.

Yeah, Harry wasn’t going anywhere. Not till he knew Liam was all right. And he didn’t think he was. Now that he saw the look of fear in his eyes, he wasn’t sure how he’d ever missed it. And something told him to find out why it was there at all.

And then the door opened wide.

Harry sort of blanked out when he met George’s eyes. He would’ve pissed himself in that second but luckily, he’d gone to the loo before leaving home.

The next thing he knew George was pulling Liam into the house by his collar and slamming the door shut, once again shrouding Harry in the solitary glow of the exterior lamp.

He stood there for a long time. He didn’t know how long but it felt like forever. He was suddenly cold and scared, desperate to go home but knowing he couldn’t.

The yelling had quieted down but he knew better than to think that meant anything.

He reached out and grabbed the doorknob, his hands, his whole body, shaking. He pushed the door open, just a bit, just enough to hear George’s voice again but the man sounded far away now.

Harry slipped inside. He didn’t shut the door, worried about the sound it would make, apprehensive about cutting off a way of escape.

Liam was pushing himself up off the floor of the kitchen just ahead. Harry didn’t call out to him. He kept creeping forward, trying to get Liam’s attention. He still hadn’t figured out a plan, didn’t know what he was attempting to do in the first place.

Harry stopped moving when George finally came into sight. Without any cue, Liam charged forward and swung at him with his small fists that had no impact whatsoever, and scrawny legs that might as well have been twigs. George wasn’t even fazed. He had Liam’s mother in his clutches by her blonde hair and with his other hand, he got a hold once again of Liam’s collar.

And like he was a gnat, he flicked him away. It wasn’t correct to say Liam stumbled backwards. His feet might not have touched the ground at all. He hit that exposed brick wall in his kitchen and slumped to the floor.

Harry screamed, or he thought he did. It also might have been Grace Payne, who was now rushing toward Liam, somehow having broken away from George. He must have let her go. He was standing there by the stove shocked into silence.

“Liam,” Grace was saying, lifting his head. “Baby, answer me.”

George stepped past her, his eyes wide and—scared? Maybe not. Harry, though—he was scared. Also, he couldn’t breathe.

Grace cradled the back of Liam’s head. “Oh my God,” she was crying. Her hand came away dark red. George looked like he wanted to flee. He turned away from them, finally seeing Harry standing there in the hall, struggling for breath.

Harry needed his inhaler. He needed to get away from this man.

Finally, _finally_ , he turned and ran. Faster even than he had to get himself there. He was crying, and he couldn’t breathe, and everything hurt. He needed to get home now. He needed to get help.

His mum was in the drive, stepping out of the car with paper bags in her arms. She heard the thud of sneakers on the pavement and glanced behind her and froze.

“Harry?”

Harry didn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

His mum dropped the paper bags. “Harry,” she said, stooping down, holding his face. She grabbed her purse, pushing around inside until she found an inhaler. “Here, love. It’s okay.”

She stuck the inhaler in his mouth. Harry wrapped his hand around hers and clung to her. The tears kept coming, choking him up.

“Breathe, honey. Mum’s here. Just breathe,” she was saying, pushing his curls away from his face with her free hand.

Harry breathed, so grateful when he found he could. He was alive. But Liam…maybe Liam wasn’t.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” his mum said.

Harry had probably just watched him die. That was what was wrong. Tomorrow at school they would announce to the class that his friend was dead. And Harry had seen it happen.

He tried to tell his mum. But all he could do was cry.

+

**13 January 2018**

“I told her eventually,” Harry said. “And then we called the hospital to see if Liam had been admitted. And then she took me there to see him. The police were there questioning Liam’s mum. I didn’t expect them to ask me questions too.”

Louis was holding Harry’s hand now, running his thumb over his knuckles. “What did they ask you?”

Harry watched Louis’ finger move over his skin. “Uh, there was this man named Charles there. He told me that it was possible that Liam’s dad had been hurting him and his mum for a long time. And then I started crying again. I had another asthma attack. And they gave me some shit to calm me down a bit and they didn’t ask any more questions. But I told them everything anyway. It all just tumbled out. Even about the other woman.”

Louis sighed. “Well, I think that was very brave of you,” he said. “To go in there and try to help. And then to tell them what you saw too.”

“A lot of people would disagree,” Harry said. “Liam’s dad took off afterwards. No one around here has seen him since. He took all their money and Liam’s mum’s jewelry, the T.V. and the car. It was because of me that they went after him at all.”

“No. It was because of him,” Louis said. “He did this to himself. He nearly killed his family. You were just a kid.”

“I wasn’t an alpha though, that was the point. Alphas don’t do things like that. We’re supposed to handle our business ourselves.”

Louis’ eyes were about to roll out of his head. “Oh, fuck that. You thought your friend was about to die. You were scared. We all get scared. Alphas too.”

“I know that now,” Harry said. “I don’t blame myself, not anymore. When I was a kid, I used to all the time. Eventually, I started resenting Liam because he resented me. And now we just hate each other, though I’d say he hates me a little more.”

“I’d say he’s still a fucking prick,” Louis said. He looked down at their joined hands and added quietly, “But…he was just a kid. And he didn’t deserve what happened to him either.”

Harry smiled. “No, he didn’t,” he said.

“ _But_ that also doesn’t mean he gets a break for all the shit he’s done.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Harry laughed a little. He couldn’t help it. Louis was adorable like this too. Louis leaned in and kissed him then, just because he could. And as usual, that led to them making out. Harry was starting to get hard again and Louis was moving into his lap again and Harry kept ruining it. “What are you doing tonight?” he said.

Louis pulled back and looked at him confusedly. “Whatever you’re doing,” he said and returned to the mark he was working into Harry’s neck.

“My mum wants you to come by for dinner,” Harry said.

Louis pulled back again, his brows raised. “Really?”

“Yeah, sorry. You don’t have to. It’s not a big deal,” Harry said. “Honestly, my family is weird so—”

“Your family is _not_ weird. Seriously? You were just at my house like two days ago. You should know weird by now,” Louis said.

“My family’s a different kind of weird. I don’t know,” Harry said. He really didn’t. He just felt self-conscious about everything.

Louis shook his head. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

“So, you’ll come?”

“Already did that,” Louis said, snorting at his own joke.

“Louis…” Harry said. He thought he was the Master of Puns but Louis had his moments too.

“Yes, Harry, I’ll be there,” Louis said.

+

Now he remembered why his family was weird.

Cookie-cutter was a better term.

His parents were still married and, though they never boasted about it, quite affluent. They had a nice house with more than enough room for everyone. Three cars, one of which would be Harry’s when he left for university. Throw in Gemma who was two years away from securing a degree in Biomedical Engineering and Harry who was pretty much guaranteed full-ride scholarships at any university and the entire family seemed sort of perfect. Especially compared to everyone else’s. Louis’ too.

Harry felt self-conscious about it all when Louis stepped into his house. He didn't know why. Just that he did.

Anne was there to greet them in the kitchen, pulling a casserole from the oven, wearing a pink apron. She had a well-paying job but took on all the appearance of a stay-at-home mum.

Anne removed her oven mitts. “I’m so glad you could make it,” she said and pulled Louis into a warm hug. He hadn’t been expecting it, Harry could tell, but he hugged her back just as warmly.

Anne gave Harry a hug too, running her hand through the back of his hair.

“Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Hopefully your father’s home by then,” Anne said. “You should give Louis a look around.”

She didn’t need to know that Louis had already been to Harry’s house a few times before. That earlier this week, Louis had given Harry head in the loo by the front door.  Or that they’d made out in the exact spot she was standing.

“Sure,” Harry said, smiling at Louis.

Louis returned his smile. “I’d love a look around.”

Harry showed Louis his mum’s herb garden in the sunroom, the one spot in the house Louis was unaware of. “Your mum would have a herb garden,” Louis said.

Harry’s brows creased. "Why?"

Louis shrugged. “'Cause you know, she's like a TV mom. You know, they always have herb gardens," he said. Seeing the confusion still on Harry's face, he added, "She just seems perfect. Like she’s got all her shit together. Your whole family is like that really.”

Harry looked away. He’d been worried about Louis thinking exactly that and still he hadn’t prepared a proper response.

Louis’ hand froze on the peppermint bush he’d been touching. “What?” he said.

Harry smiled. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You looked down at your feet,” Louis said.

“You do that all the time.”

“Yeah, and when I do, you know it means something and you ask me. And eventually I tell you. So what’s wrong?” Louis said again.

Harry shrugged. “It's nothing. Just...people always say that my family is perfect.”

Louis waited for a second for him to go on. But Harry just shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain any further.

“Having a family that people find to be perfect isn’t anything to be ashamed of. It’s a compliment. And you should be proud of it,” Louis said.

“But even if people don’t find a person’s family perfect, they still can be, to that person,” Harry said. “And who wants to be perfect anyway?”

Louis contemplated that. “I see what you mean. But for some people, it’d be a relief to have a family that everyone thinks is perfect.”

“Then I think your family’s perfect,” Harry said. “And not in the same way people think my family is. In their own way. Like when you make a mosaic and you just stick all these different pieces together and it just works.”

Louis smiled. “Such a poet.”

“I try,” Harry said.

Louis looked at the herb garden again, running his fingers over some rosemary. “I love my family. But sometimes it gets hard to like everything about them. Like right now, with Zayn having clocked out of everything. He’s turning into my mum.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Louis sighed. He massaged his forehead for a second like he was getting a migraine. “They’ve both got the whole sorrowful omega thing going on. ‘Cause my dad left my mum and they were mated. And now Liam’s done the same to Zayn. And that kind of thing fucks people up. Losing your mate, you know? It’s like you never bounce back from that. Not completely.”

Because mating was a lifetime thing. The power of the bond was meant to last until death. Cutting it off prematurely wasn’t possible. Even mating with someone else couldn’t sever former ties, as was the case for Jay and Yaser Malik, and so it would be for Zayn should he ever decide to find someone else.

“It’s like mating is worse than marriage,” Louis said with a laugh that was bordering on bitter. “At least you can end a marriage and be done with the person. You can’t end anything with a mate.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Harry said. “What happened with Zayn and Liam is rare. Most alphas and omegas stay together.”

“Because they feel they have to,” Louis said. “Because there’s the bond removing their choice to be free.”

Okay. Harry didn’t like where this was going. “But the bond isn’t a cage.”

“It can be,” Louis said.

Harry blinked at him. He didn’t know what to say anymore. He wasn’t sure he understood correctly. And he was a little afraid to.

“Sorry,” Louis said all of a sudden. He was touching Harry’s forearm now, leaning in to rest his head against his shoulder. “I’m just weird about the mating thing.”

“I get it,” Harry said. “You have reason to be. You’ve seen it screw over the people you love.”

Louis was quiet, his face still hidden from Harry’s view.

“But that doesn’t mean the same would happen to you,” Harry said.

Louis finally pulled way to look at him. “No way to be sure beforehand, is there?”

They heard the front door open and close, and then Anne’s voice greeting Harry’s dad.

Louis leaned up and dropped a kiss on Harry’s mouth before stepping away from him completely. Harry hadn’t seen this coming at all, to have Louis but also to be told that he couldn’t have him.

It wasn’t like Harry was ready to be someone’s alpha. He still couldn’t get a handle on what it meant to be an alpha in the first place. And he hadn’t even told Louis he loved him. But _someday_. Harry had always hoped it would happen for them at some point.

And now he wasn’t sure it would.

Dinner went well. Harry wished Gemma were there to draw some of the attention off Harry and Louis. Or really just Louis.

“Louis, you should talk to your mum about joining my book club,” Anne suggested, her glass of wine poised in her hand.

Harry loved his mum. Honestly, he did. But he knew for a fact that Jay had no time for book club or fine wine or any of the things his mum was into. He glanced at Louis, trying to send apologies telepathically.

“I’ll mention it to her,” Louis said with a smile.

His dad started asking Louis about football and potential scholarships for the fall.

“Scouting period’s begun, hasn’t it?” Des was saying. “If they’ll be looking at anyone, I’m sure it’ll be you and your brother.”

Anne nodded her agreement. Louis smiled politely. “Thank you. I hope so.”

He and Harry hadn’t even talked about university or any of what happened after graduation. They’d been too caught up in the beginnings of their relationship to think about the possible end.

Harry hated to be pessimistic but there weren’t very many couples who lasted beyond Year 11 or 12. And it wasn’t like he’d be mating Louis during the summer.

Maybe it wasn’t so much pessimism but rather realism.

“That definitely wasn’t as fun as dinner with your family,” Harry said when they were walking back to Louis’ house a little later on, their fingers laced the second they stepped through the door.

“Your family is great and your dad is really funny,” Louis said. “It’s bound to seem less exciting without the twins flinging vegetables at each other, or Zayn was glaring at his food, or Liyah swooning every time you spoke.”

“Swooning?”

Louis rolled his eyes, laughing. “She has the biggest crush on you. It’s even worse now since you bought her that book.”

“No way. It didn’t seem that way the last time I was there.”

“Yeah because she acts the same with everyone, crush or not. But I have ways of knowing. And who could resist you anyway?”

Harry smiled bashfully. “I never would’ve known.”

“No surprise there. You didn’t know how I felt for two years.”

“Neither did you. You were actually surprised when I said that poem was for you.”

“I _knew_ that poem was mine. I just wanted to hear you say it,” Louis said.

Harry bumped his hip against Louis. Louis retaliated by trying to jump onto Harry’s back. The same flexibility and proficiency he displayed on the football pitch apparently didn’t extend to his aerial attacks. Eventually Harry took pity on him and gave him a piggyback ride for the remaining minute of their walk.

“This is comfy,” Louis reported.

“Good,” Harry said, curling his arms more securely under Louis’ thighs.

Louis rested his head against Harry’s shoulder and they were quiet for a little while.

“Don’t think too much about what I said earlier,” Louis said at random. “It’s not important right now. It shouldn’t be.”

“I’m not freaking out about it,” Harry said. He was, actually. Just a little.

It didn’t seem like Louis believed him because he went on. “The only thing that matters is you and me, Haz. And you have me.”

 _For now._ Harry had him now. But what about when they started university in a few months? What about if Louis was scouted to some football school in another country? What about years from now? Because so long as they weren’t mated, Louis could walk away whenever he wanted to.

Harry agreed that he should have that choice, that there shouldn’t be some mystical bond that kept two people stuck with one another. But when Harry thought about mating Louis, he didn’t see himself “stuck.” Louis was where Harry belonged. Mated or not, Louis was Harry’s future. Bond or none, Louis was his home.

And if Louis was willing to mate him, at least Harry would know he felt the same. As it stood, nothing was certain.

Louis pressed a kiss to Harry’s neck and set his head on his shoulder again and that was the end of that.

+

**19 January 2018**

Harry scrutinized two tomatoes carefully before bagging them up and setting them in the cart. Beside him, Louis laughed.

“She’s just making tacos, Harry,” he said, setting a can of corn into the cart. “Not a fiesta for the Queen.”

Harry ignored him, selecting an onion and inspecting it just as carefully. “Oh, could you get the tortillas?” he asked. “Try to find something organic.”

Louis looked bored out of his mind. “Whatever you say, love,” he said, and returned a minute later with organic tortillas. They wrapped around the store for minced beef, and unrelated treats the girls had snuck onto the grocery list.

Louis was shooting food items into the shopping cart like a basketball star, and Harry didn’t want to burst his bubble so he caught everything that sailed past the cart discreetly.

They were at the end of the snack aisle when Louis said, “Wait. Forgot the eggs.”

Harry started to turn the cart back around.

“It’s okay. Just wait here. I’ll be right back,” Louis said, hurrying off.

Harry busied himself, surveying the array of candy to his left. He picked up a pack of peanut butter cups and tossed them into the cart. He promised himself to only eat five and share the rest with the twins. He shuffled his cart closer to the side to make room for the person coming down the aisle and glanced up to shoot them a friendly smile.

And he froze.

He should have smelled him coming. He should have remembered that smell. From seven years ago and from a few days ago when he was on his way to the park. He hadn’t realized then but he knew for sure, now when he was face-to-face with George Payne.

It’d been so long. With anyone else, he might not even remember their face, but he would never forget his.

His hood was up the way it had been before, shielding most of his face. His eyes were an almost translucent gray. (Liam’s brown eyes he’d inherited from his mother.) They were piercing and unkind and trained on him.

The first thing Harry felt was fear, like he was still eleven years old and tiny and standing outside of the kitchen of Liam’s home, wanting to help when all he could do was gasp for breath.

The second thing he felt, that was fear too — but for Louis. If this was the moment George sought revenge for Harry sort of ruining his life, so be it. But he would have to wait until Harry knew Louis was safe and far away.

He glanced back to see Louis coming up the aisle with a carton of eggs in his hand, walking with the usual bounce in his step, completely unaware. He even stopped for a second to pick up a bag of chips.

Harry took a step back, ready to run and grab him if need be. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t know what to do. But he’d do something, anything.

George just made a noise, like a laugh, that was condescending and breathy. He reached over Harry’s shopping cart and grabbed a pack of Twizzlers.

Harry definitely should have smelled him. He reeked so strongly of alcohol, it burned his nose now.

George got his Twizzlers and turned away, strolling back the way he’d come.

“Who was that?” Louis asked, placing the eggs and his bag of chips in the cart.

Harry snapped out of his daze. He ran his eyes over Louis like he was expecting to find a bruise or wound of some sort. Louis was perfectly fine, if not a little concerned.

Harry reached for Louis’ hand and held tight. “I’ll tell you in the car. Come on.”

While they were chopping onions and tomatoes later on, they tried to work out the logistics of George being back in town. There had been a warrant out for his arrest since 2004 and even without police involvement, people knew what he’d done and wouldn’t be eager to have him around.

“Maybe no one knows he’s here,” Louis said. “Like maybe he’s just hiding out somewhere. Laying low.”

“What about Liam and his mum? They have to know. They’re probably the only reason he’s back.”

Louis shrugged. “That makes sense, I guess.” He grew quiet for a second. The knife froze in his hand. “You think Zayn knows?”

Harry wiped his sleeve under his eyes. The onions were giving him hell.

“It’s possible,” he said.

“And what if…” Louis began. “What if that’s why they broke up? Because Liam’s crazy dad got in the way?”

That _did_ make a lot of sense. Whatever had caused Liam and Zayn to fall apart had to have been colossal considering how close they’d been prior. And George showing up out of nowhere would be just the thing.

“I think you could be right,” Harry said, sniffling.

Louis shook his head. “Shouldn’t have left you to chop the onions. You’re a mess.”

Harry had to laugh at himself. Some alpha he was to be weakened, of all things, by onions.

“Do you think you’ll be alright?” Louis asked, his voice solemn.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’m almost done.”

“No, not about the onions. I mean with Liam’s dad around. Will you be safe?”

Harry stopped chopping. He should have answered the question truthfully. He wouldn’t make it a habit of lying to Louis. But it was taco night and Louis had been in a good mood all day and Harry didn’t want to ruin it. So he smiled, “I’ll be fine, yeah.”

Louis swiped his chopped tomatoes into a bowl. “There’s no way he even knows you were the one who told the police,” he said, more to himself than to Harry.

Harry didn’t tell him that it was obvious who’d told the police. Between Harry, Liam, and Grace, Harry was the only one who would dare to “betray” George, seeing as he wasn’t bound to George in the first place.

But Louis needed to feel better about the whole thing. Just because Harry probably wouldn’t sleep tonight, didn’t mean Louis should suffer the same fate.

Harry spent the last few days of January waiting for George to show up at his door. He lived in fear for himself, even more so for Louis and his mum. And…he worried about Liam.

He kept his eyes open and sniffed the air for George at random. But the rest of the month passed without spotting him or catching even a whiff.

+

**1 February 2018**

Harry had an aversion to his birthday. Each one since he was 11 had been another reminder that nothing was changing from year to year. It was worse after he met Louis. He spent his 16th and 17th year wondering when, if ever, he’d have a chance with him, or dreading the moment some alpha came along and got him first.

Those years had been morbid, so his birthdays were too.

But not this one.

He didn’t have a party, not like the one they threw for Zayn. After school, Niall, James, Stan, and Louis came over for pizza and cake and ice cream.

It was fun just having them around. They were only missing one.

“You didn’t forget to invite Zayn, did you?” Harry asked Niall while they were all in the backyard kicking around a football.

He would’ve invited Zayn himself but Niall was the only one Zayn really spoke to anymore.

Niall looked at him. “Uh. No I mentioned it, I think.”

“You don’t remember?”

Niall sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know, H. Did you want him to come that badly?”

Harry’s brows creased. “Everyone did. Louis really wanted him here.”

Niall didn’t respond to that. He just looked at him and then away. Harry was about to question him further because clearly there was something up. But the ball was coming their way and Niall ran ahead to meet it and probably avoid the subject. Weird.

Later on, it was just Louis and Harry, sitting on the couch in the living room, conscious of Harry’s parents somewhere in the house. They were pretending to watch _Planet of the Apes_ but ended up making out fifteen minutes in. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. It was impossible to sit that close to Louis without wanting to kiss him.

But Louis was starting to give off a scent, and Harry didn’t know how good his parents’ noses were. He broke his mouth away.

“We can’t do this here,” he said quietly.

Louis rubbed his nose over Harry’s cheek. “Haven’t you been wanting to show me your treehouse?”

Their eyes met.

Harry definitely wanted to show Louis his treehouse. He’d been waiting until the weather was nicer. But he was harder than a rock right now, and this was as good a time as any.

They left the telly on, and slipped through the back door, walking quickly to escape the cold and the view of his parents.

They climbed up the rope ladder, Harry beneath Louis to make sure he got up safely. He’d admit he looked at Louis’ bum a few times along the way.

Louis stepped up onto the wooden platform surrounding the tree house and looked around. “The view is sick,” he said, pausing to admire it all. From the top of the tree house, they could see most of the neighbourhood, even the woods where the park began.

It was a nice view, that was true. But Harry preferred looking at Louis. He stepped up behind him, touching his forehead to the back Louis’ head, running his fingers over his waist gently.

“I want to touch you,” he said.

“You’re touching me,” Louis teased, pushing his bum back into Harry’s crotch. He was awful.

Harry breathed him in, the tip of his nose behind Louis’ ear. “You know what I mean.”

Louis gripped the wooden railing surrounding the treehouse tightly, tipping his head so Harry could press a kiss to his neck. He made a little noise in the back of his throat, and turned away.

He licked his lips. “I want to see inside,” he said, slipping out of Harry’s grasp.

He ducked into the little tree house doorway, pushing aside the heavy curtain. Harry took a breath before following him, adjusting his overeager dick. Louis kicked off his shoes and looked around there too but it was too dark to see much.

“Hang on,” Harry said, scrambling for the battery-operated lamps he kept around the place, and cut a few of them on.

They had to keep their heads low until they sat down. One day Harry probably wouldn’t even be able to fit up here.

Louis got himself comfortable on the fluffy rug in the middle of the floor and studied the posters on the walls. “This is amazing.”

Harry smiled around at the place like he was seeing it all for the first time too. Really, it was the look on Louis’ face that made him feel giddy.

“You helped your dad build this?” Louis asked.

“Hardly,” Harry said. “I might have hammered a few nails but it’s more his work.”

He turned on the little space heater in the corner.

“I like the blue walls,” Louis said. He shuffled closer to peek out the little window on the side of the tree house. “How much time do you spend up here?”

“Not a lot during the winter. But in the spring and the summer, I hardly ever come down.”

Louis glanced at him. “That must be nice.”

“You can come back then,” Harry said quietly. “During the summer, if you want.”

Louis gave him a look. “Of course I want,” he said, sitting back down on the fluffy rug. He smiled. “I have another present for you.”

Harry’s brows creased. “You didn’t have to get me anything else. I loved the jumper.”

He didn’t think Louis had been joking about knitting him a jumper. But he also hadn’t expected him to actually do it.

It was dark blue and so soft and delicate Harry was worried he would ruin it the first time he pulled it on. Louis admitted his sisters had helped, and even his mum at one point, but that only made it more special.

“Well, my fingers nearly fell off making it so I’d hope so,” Louis said. “But this present is different. And you can’t laugh.”

Harry doubted he would. Louis reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded slip of paper. He took a breath. “I wrote something. It’s stupid and probably not as good as anything you’ve written. But I don’t know. Liyah read it and said it was decent.”

Harry was smiling so much his face hurt. “Are you going to read it to me?”

“Probably not,” Louis said, handing it to him.

Harry laughed. That was alright. He remembered having to read the poem he wrote for Louis and nearly pissing himself. He started unfolding the paper and then Louis snatched it back.

“Never mind. You might not read it right,” Louis said, unfolding the paper and smoothing it out over his thigh. His eyes flickered up to Harry’s. “If you laugh, I’m breaking up with you.”

He probably wouldn’t break up with him. But Harry probably wouldn’t laugh either. “I swear I won’t,” he said, still smiling.

Louis took a breath. “Okay,” he said.

And his poem went like this:

_I’d like to run away with you_

_But I don’t know where we’d go_

_Or if we’d make it very far_

_Or find something to call home_

_But then I think of any place_

_And think any place would do_

_‘Cause anywhere feels like home_

_When you’re there too._

Louis exhaled, his ears and cheeks pink. “That’s it,” he said, folding the paper back up. “Should probably be longer but I couldn’t think of anything else, so…”

It wasn’t until he had the paper folded into a neat square that he finally looked up.

Harry wasn’t smiling anymore. His lips were slightly parted in awe, his brain moving slowly like the blood in his veins.

“Happy Birthday,” Louis said with a nervous laugh when Harry said nothing.

Harry licked his lips, still just looking at him.

“Okay. I know it’s shit and it’s weird,” Louis said, beginning to tuck the paper in his pocket. “Thank you at least for not laughing. I don’t know why I thought—”

“Louis,” Harry said, sitting closer now. He leaned in. “Shut up.”

Louis closed his mouth and Harry kissed him.

“That was beautiful,” he said. “So beautiful, really, it was. It’s short and sweet and I love it.” _And I love you._ “It means so much that you think that way of me. And you know, everywhere you are— That feels like home to me too.”

Louis grinned. “Good to know,” he said quietly. He kissed Harry again, the poem slipping from his hand as he wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck. And all Harry could do was kiss back.

Because the words “I love you” were threatening to burst free and he wasn’t ready to say them and maybe Louis wasn’t ready to hear them. He let them sit on his tongue and licked them into Louis’ mouth. Louis climbed into Harry’s lap, his knees bracketing his lips. He threaded his fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, the pads of his fingers pressing firmly into Harry’s skin. The chilled tips of their noses brushed each time they changed the angle of their kiss.

When Louis rocked his hips down, Harry’s groan echoed between their mouths. It served as an incentive for Louis to do again. He pushed his hands against Harry’s chest, breaking the kiss, pushing until Harry’s back was flat against the fluffy rug. Harry’s hands spread over his hips, his eyes trained on Louis’ slightly flushed face.

Louis slid his fingers over the buttons of Harry’s uniform shirt, working them open, one by one to the hem of his trousers. He ran his palm back up over his stomach and his chest, his fingers cool but Harry didn’t shiver. He felt like he burned wherever Louis touched him.

They hadn’t found the chance to change earlier before the others showed up. But Harry liked the way Louis looked in his uniform. His tie was gone and the first three buttons were undone. And Louis seemed to like Harry in his uniform too. (He’d even suggested once that Harry use his necktie to tie Louis to his bed — an image that’d been stuck in Harry’s head ever since.)

They could never undress completely up here. There was a draft, even with the space heater on, and Harry’s parents were still down below in the house. But it was enough to have Louis’ hands on any part of his bare skin—

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Harry’s eyes rounded. “What—? His gaze had been on Louis’ mouth when he spoke, but he still had a hard time believing he’d said what he said.

“I think about it all the time,” Louis said.

Harry sat upright, jostling Louis slightly. “About what?”

“About you taking me.”

Taking him. Jesus.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled a calming breath. “But you said—”

“We don't have to go all the way,” Louis replied without a pause. He’d definitely thought this through. Harry opened his mouth to object. Louis kept talking, “Just pull out.”

Harry had to work through the sludge in his brain before he could respond. “I can’t do that,” he said. “I wouldn’t be able to do that. You told me a few weeks ago how that turned out for Zayn and Liam.”

“We’re not Zayn and Liam,” Louis said.

Harry shook his head. “Louis—”

It never worked. There were plenty of people who were mated because they’d fucked and either forgotten to pull out or didn’t do it in time. It happened all the time, especially to teenagers who had no clue what they were doing. Like Harry, for example.

Mating Louis right now would be one hell of a birthday gift. But not if it was an accident. Louis didn’t want that. And Harry wasn’t ready.

“I trust you,” Louis said. “It wouldn’t hurt to try. But only if you want to. If you want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Harry said quickly. How was that even a question?

He wanted Louis in every way he could have him. And he wanted to try. He was eighteen years old now and his extremely attractive omega boyfriend was offering him the opportunity of a lifetime. No other response made sense.

But…

“What would you do if it happened?” Harry asked.

Louis stopped making eye contact, focused on his fingers splayed out over Harry’s abs. He shrugged his right shoulder. “I’d deal with it. How bad could it be?”

“But you wouldn’t be happy about it, right?”

Louis sighed. “I told you—”

“I know,” Harry said. He knew all about Louis’ aversions to mating. “And that’s why it’s not a good idea. I can’t risk you being unhappy in a situation you didn't want and can't change. I can’t risk you suffering through a bond with me.”

“Don’t say it like that. It’s not like that. It’s not about you—”

“I know,” Harry said again. “But you understand why I can’t, right?”

Louis dropped his head against Harry’s shoulder, releasing a sigh. Harry felt him nod his head and then bite gently at Harry’s neck, enough to make him groan. Louis huffed a laugh and when he pulled away, his smile was smug. And then it faded just as quickly.

"I know you want to be mated someday,” he said. “I’m sorry that I’m keeping you from having that.”

Harry wanted to break eye contact but there was nowhere else to look. Louis said it like there was someone else Harry would want that with. Like if they weren’t together, sooner or later, Harry would be content to mate some omega he happened to meet. Louis didn’t get it. “You’re not keeping me from anything. I’m only eighteen. It’s not a big deal right now.”

Louis’ smile was small, not as vibrant as Harry would have liked. His blue eyes narrowed as he considered his next words carefully. “Would you— If I wanted to, would you do it? Would you want that with me? Right now?”

It surprised Harry how easily and how quickly he answered. Whenever he thought about it before, he told himself he _wasn’t_ ready. And yet, right away, Harry said, “Yes.”

Louis’ eyes darted between his, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He didn’t reply. Just pressed his hands against the side of Harry’s neck and leaned in to kiss him again, firmer than he had before, more urgently too.

Harry stopped thinking about mating and sex and the many complicated truths about who they were. He forgot for a second that he was an alpha or that Louis was an omega (which was hard because his scent was all over the tree house). He reduced himself to just Harry Styles. And the boy in his arms was just Louis Tomlinson. And that was all that mattered.

Louis’ hand disappeared between them to pull Harry’s trousers open. He started stroking Harry slowly with one hand. “Since you won’t fuck me,” he began, unfastening his own trousers, pulling his cock out too. “I think you should wrap one of your hands around us both.” Harry did right away, giving them a squeeze. Louis’ head returned to his shoulder and he breathed out, “Make us come.”

“Is this what you want?” Harry asked, already starting to move his hand over them both.

“You’re what I want,” Louis said quietly, his breath hot on Harry’s neck.

“Me too. I want you too.” _I love you._ Harry bit his lip hard.

It didn’t take long for either of them. Louis had his hands twisted in the open flaps of Harry’s uniform shirt, kissing him and then just panting against his lips. At one point, he bit down hard on Harry’s shoulder. It wasn’t the same as Harry biting him. He couldn't do that unless he intended to knot him. But it was still effective, making each stroke of Harry’s hand faster and more desperate.

"You've no idea, you know?" Louis murmured. "You make me feel so good and you’ve got no idea how much."

Harry pushed their mouths back together. He loved him. So much it ached, and the pain wouldn’t go away until he said it and Louis knew. But it was momentarily soothed by Louis clinging to him as they both came. They were still for several minutes afterwards.

Louis lifted his head. “I want cake,” he mumbled.

Harry laughed breathlessly. “You had cake already.”

Louis looked at him. “More cake,” he clarified.

"Right..." Harry glanced down at his crotch. “I’m going to need a minute.”

Louis smiled. “I can see that.”

He needed three more minutes actually before he could tuck his cock back into his trousers. And then he left the tree house, jogging across the yard in his quest for cake.

He ran into his mum, his face immediately going crimson, which was ridiculous— she had no way of knowing what he’d been up to.

She cut a large section of cake for him and filled a large thermos with water she’d just boiled. “Should have cups up there for tea,” she was saying, packing everything in a bag and tossing in a few tea bags.

“Come down in another hour so Louis can get home. Or if it gets too cold,” she said, fixing his collar.

“I will,” he said.

“Also, H,” she said, giving him a stern look. “Be good.”

Harry was mortified. “Thanks, mum. Bye.”

He hurried back to the tree house. Louis sat up when he stepped inside. He wore a blanket around his shoulders and a smile on his face.

“What’s all that?”

“Cake. And tea,” Harry said, setting the bag down. “Ran into my mum.”

Both of Louis’ brows shot up. “Awkward,” he said. “Wonder if she could tell we just defiled your tree house.”

“Luckily, I think no.” Harry said while fixing them cups of tea. As he was handing Louis a cup, he saw the folded square of paper lying beside the rug. He picked it up between two fingers.

“Think this is mine,” he said before sliding it into his pocket.

Louis smiled, his mouth full of cake. “That it is.”

Louis asked him again about some of the posters on his wall and all the junk he had up there. Harry showed him the spot near the window where Liam had carved his name, then Gemma, then Niall, and Josh, anyone who’d ever been granted access to his tree house.

So, of course, that meant Louis had to carve his name too. He used a screwdriver Harry had lying around to write “Louis was here” and then much smaller, he added “LT + HS” with a large misshapen heart drawn around the letters.

He smiled proudly at his craftsmanship and dusted his hands off. Harry waited till Louis was busy finishing his cake to snap a picture of it with his phone.

“So, Harold Styles,” Louis said after they were lying there in silence, staring up through the window in the roof of the tree house. He sat up, using his fist as a fake microphone. Harry grinned, easily entertained by anything Louis did.

“Would you say this has been your best birthday yet?” Louis asked, jutting his microphone fist toward Harry.

Harry smiled. “Well, there was this one birthday two years ago. Got a nice bag of biscuits that time.”

“Considering you’re now dating the person who gave them to you, wouldn’t you say this one’s been better?”

“Sorry I couldn’t hear you ‘cause you didn’t use the mic,” Harry commented.

Louis narrowed his eyes, his lips curving in a smile. “Answer the question,” he spoke into his fist.

“This...” Harry began, curling his fingers around Louis’ wrist, moving his makeshift microphone out of the way, “…is my best birthday yet.”

Louis didn’t ask any further questions. Harry kissed him and effectively reduced him to moaning. He tasted of cake and tea, and smelled like the incarnation of sunrise. He was warm wherever he was curled around Harry’s body.

It was Harry’s best birthday, yes. But also, perhaps, his best day ever too.

+

**22 February 2018**

**11:34 pm:** _Can I come over?_

Harry glanced at the clock on his wall just to be sure it was as late as he thought. His parents were asleep and it was a school night. He sat upright, rubbing his tired eyes briefly.

 **11:35 pm:** Are you okay?

 **11:35 pm:** _No. I need to see you for a bit._

 **11:35 pm:** Where are you? I can come to you.

 **11:36 pm:** _No. I’m close by._

 **11:37 pm:** Meet me at the back door.

Harry pushed the duvet away from his body and tumbled out of bed. His feet got caught in his discarded blanket and he tripped, caught himself on the edge of his bedside cabinet, and started off towards his bedroom door.

He heard his father’s snores drifting under the door across the hall as he crept down the stairs, toes pressing as softly as possible into the wood of the staircase, skipping over that one step he knew to be loud and creaky. He left the lights off as he made his way through the kitchen.

Louis must have started walking long before he asked to come over. Which was fine because Harry would have said yes regardless of the circumstances. He pushed the back door open and Louis was right there, stepping inside without a word and shaking the cold from his hunched shoulders.

The first thing Harry noticed was the scent.

In general, Louis smelled really good all of the time. But  _this_ was something else entirely. Normally, Louis’ scent was just pleasant.

This was distracting.

“Hi,” Harry said quietly.

Louis smiled. “Hi,” he whispered back.

Harry’s eyes ran over Louis’ body, head to toe but he looked to be fine, if not a little sweaty. His face and neck and ears were all flushed a light pink. “Are you feeling sick?” Harry asked.

Louis shook his head. “Not sick,” he said. “Could we go to your room?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, reaching for his hand.

They trod through the house like thieves. Louis skipped the noisy step as Harry instructed. When they reached the landing, they tiptoed to his room. Harry shut the door softly and locked it.

“You should have let me come to you,” Harry said. “It would have been safer.”

Normally Louis would answer him with a lot of sass about how he was an omega, not a four-year-old child. But he had no quips for him now. “I was fine,” he said quietly. He kept his eyes on Harry while he removed his jacket and sat down on his bed.

Well, okay.

Harry sat down beside him. “So, what’s wrong?”

Louis shook his head again, blinking. “Nothing, just— I wanted to see you.”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Harry said.

“I didn’t realise how late it was,” Louis replied.

“You sure you’re not feeling poorly?” Harry asked and reached out to touch his forehead.

Louis pulled away. “Don’t— I’m okay.”

Harry dropped his hand instantly, unfamiliar with Louis rejecting his touch. Suddenly, he felt a little ill himself. “Did…I do something?”

He’d been waiting for this. He hated to admit it but he kept expecting his luck with Louis to run out.

“No, Harry,” Louis said, sounding helpless. He pulled at his collar. “It’s just— Fuck, it’s so _hot_ in here.”

Harry was about to stand and open a window. But then it all just kind of clicked. Right then, unprompted and unbidden. It all suddenly made sense.

“Louis…”

Harry swallowed around the sudden lump building in his throat. He looked at him, _really_ looked at him, and he wasn’t sure how he’d missed it before. The scent. The flushed skin.

“What?” Louis asked.

“Are you nearing a heat or something?”

The second Louis’ eyes slid away from his, Harry’s rounded, almost as wide as the moon outside. “Can you not tell?” Louis mumbled.

“How near?” Harry asked.

Louis picked at the hem of his shirt, and shrugged. “Could start any second really.”

“Shit,” Harry exhaled, dropping his forehead into his palm.

“I know,” Louis said, standing. “I know. I don’t— fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I wasn’t thinking. But I should go. I’m going."

He should definitely go. Harry knew that. He knew what happened next. He'd aced biology after all.

“What were you thinking?” Harry mumbled, not unkindly but he had to know. Because this didn’t make sense at all.

“I wasn’t,” Louis said again. His breathing was starting to sound shallow, his gaze unfocused. Harry would be concerned if he didn’t know what this was. “I’ve never—” Louis sucked in a deep breath, and breathed out, his eyes squeezing shut, “I’ve never had anyone before that I could— Someone who could help me. I know…you aren’t like…obligated. I know it’s risky. I told myself not to come. But here I am. But it doesn’t matter because I’m leaving now.”

Harry stood up too, beginning to pace. He didn’t like what he was feeling. He didn’t like that the sensible part of him was losing out the longer Louis spoke.

"I have to walk you home," Harry said. Louis nodded, his hands twisted in the hem of his shirt. He looked small and needy, misty eyes and fluffy hair.

Harry was going to take him home. Because that was the responsible thing to do. That was the right thing if he wanted to avoid fucking knotting him.

But neither of them was moving. “I’m going to take you home,” Harry said again, even as he reached out and cupped Louis’ face in his hands, brushing his thumb over his skin comfortingly.

Louis nodded again but didn’t speak.

Harry took a breath. "Or you could stay," he said quietly, resting his forehead against Louis’. Which… _what_?

"I really, really should go,” Louis said. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it? Right?"

“Really bad, yeah,” Harry agreed, stepping a little closer. He didn’t know why he did that. Nothing he was doing made sense anymore. Louis’ scent was everywhere, seeping into his pores, locking him in place.

Louis’ hands curled up in his shirt. "I can't control what happens if you kiss me," he said.

“I know,” Harry said and kissed him anyway. He pressed close, the heat of Louis’ body radiating through his thin shirt.

"Harry," Louis whined, tearing his mouth away. “I mean it. It’s close. I should—”

Harry's mouth went to his neck, starting on a mark beneath his ear. He smelled of every good thing the earth had to offer, all compacted into one and contained in the sweat building up on his skin, and the slick leaking from his body. He was soaking himself down with it, probably. He had to be. Harry felt starved. Louis leaned into his mouth, his nails digging crescent moons into Harry's back.

Harry had to stop. There was still time to stop. He could move away, grab his dad's keys and drive Louis home.

The weak push Louis gave him against his shoulders was counteracted by the fact that he’d locked his fingers into Harry’s shirt.

"You don't have to do this," Louis said although it came out sounded like one word.

“Do you want me to?” Harry asked. “Is that why you came? You hoped I would?”

“You know that… Fuck—”

And then Louis tore his nightshirt open, legitimately popping four buttons right off. Harry heard them hit the hardwood floor and knew his mum would wonder how he'd managed something like that and he didn't care.

Louis spread his hands out over Harry's chest, sinking his nails into his skin. He mouthed at Harry's ear and then he said it, quiet and broken and more desperate than ever:

"Fuck me."

Well, then. Harry hadn’t read about this in biology but he was willing to bet it was too late to turn back now. Louis pushed his nightshirt off his shoulders. “Please, H,” he whined, panting hot against his ear. " _Please_."

The running monologue in Harry’s head clicked off then. Something foreign and primal started up in its place, pushing him along, eager to answer Louis’ plea.

“Want you in me now,” Louis babbled. This was an awful, terrible idea. Their worst idea ever, for sure. But Harry wasn’t in the business of denying Louis anything.

It was a damn good thing he’d been in a rut a week ago or this would never work.

Somehow he maneuvered Louis onto the bed. Each time he removed a layer of clothing, Louis sighed in relief. His skin felt as though there were hot coals in his veins, his whole body flushed and damp with sweat. By this point, he wasn’t speaking anymore, just whimpering and whining. Once Harry got him undressed, he didn’t have a second to look at him before Louis started rutting up against Harry’s thigh, trying to get relief for his cock, smearing precome onto Harry’s skin.

That was overwhelming enough without the scent of Louis’ slick sending Harry into a right frenzy. He spooned behind Louis, hands firm on the dip of his slim waist. No other alpha had seen Louis like this, and that did something to Harry. To know that Louis trusted him enough to see him defenceless.

“Don’t let me hurt you, please,” Harry mumbled.

He thought Louis was miles away, too far into his heat to respond. “You won’t,” he said, his voice small, broken. “You wouldn’t.”

And that was all Harry really needed to hear. He let Louis push back against him and he pushed forward to meet him, slipping inside of him easily with the abundant moisture wetting him, all down to his thighs.

For a second, Harry just got lost in the feel of his boy snug around him. Louis needed him, yeah. But Harry needed a second to breathe, control what was going on between them so he didn’t come straight away and pop a knot and ruin everything.

And then exhaling slowly, he did what he needed to do. Because he was an alpha and Louis was the only omega who mattered. And Louis needed him.

So, that night, Harry fucked Louis in his childhood bed, wondering if the smell of Louis’ damp skin would be forever soaked into his mattress. He kept a gentle hand over Louis’ mouth because he couldn’t control the cries and moans each time Harry rocked his hips forward, and Harry buried his own face between Louis’ neck and the cotton pillow case beneath their heads, bit into his lips to quell the need to bite and mark Louis up, and tried to focus on pulling out before he came.

Harry once got a C on a test. Only once. He rarely got B's, and C's were happily uncharted territory. But then along came this cumulative physics exam, one he'd studied day and night for. He used index cards. He highlighted his book so thoroughly the tips of his fingers were stained yellow for a week. And still, even after all his hard work, the test returned with a large, malicious C scrawled at the top, there to taunt him for all eternity.

And now that test suddenly seemed like child's play. Because nothing could be harder, or more challenging in his life than _this_ :

Louis started shooting hot bands of come all over his stomach, moaning into Harry’s palm, His head tilted back, flushed neck still exposed, and all Harry wanted to do was sink his teeth into his skin and sink his knot inside and lose himself.

But he had to _pull the fuck out_.

God help him.

He was so close he could feel his knot catch on Louis’ hole, ready to lock him in place. And it was now or forever.

He made a sound like a sob, which in retrospect would be embarrassing, and pulled free, rolling over onto his back, trying to put space between their bodies. He started to wrap his hand around himself.

But Louis was suddenly on him again, or his mouth at least, slipping down around his cock. His eyes were closed, his lashes damp. He stroked him with his hand where his mouth didn't reach, licked at the head. Harry's eyes screwed shut and a groan escaped his mouth when he came. Louis pulled his mouth off, knowing he couldn't take it all down his throat. He licked him clean as best as he could, and then his head fell against Harry's thigh and he breathed out a sigh, ruffling the tiny hairs on Harry's skin.

When the fog cleared, when he could breathe normally and his knot had gone down, Harry reached for him. "Lou," he said, sitting upright, brushing his fingers through Louis' damp hair. He looked down at his face and found his eyes closed, his mouth slightly parted by deep even breaths. Maybe that was normal.

Louis’ skin was still fever hot and sweat dampened his neck but Harry tucked himself up close to him and pulled the duvet over them both. A second later, Louis blinked sleepily at him.

“I can leave now if you want,” he mumbled, his fuzzy head just poking out from the top of the duvet. “Don’t want you getting in trouble with your mum.”

“No.” Harry didn’t budge. “You’re staying with me.”

+

“Could you fetch the little pillbox in my coat pocket?” Louis mumbled, sounding sleepy and sated, after the two blowjobs Harry woke up to give him.

“And a cup of water,” he added.

Harry crawled out of bed and rummaged through Louis’ coat until he found the pillbox. He tossed it onto the mattress and went into the en suite connected to Gemma’s room to fill up a cup of water.

Louis accepted the water with a smile and took one of the blue pills with a big gulp.

“What are those?” Harry asked.

“Suppressants,” Louis said with a distasteful wrinkle of his nose. “They’re supposed to shorten the length of a heat. In addition…” Louis made grabby hands for him and Harry snuggled up beside him again. “To being with an alpha,” Louis concluded.

“Glad I can help then,” Harry smiled.

Louis shut his eyes like he meant to go back to sleep. Harry brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.

“How does it feel between waves?” he asked quietly.

Louis’ eyes fluttered open again and he shrugged. “Hot. Humid like a summer’s day but much worse. It always helps to take a cool shower. Mostly, I’m tense the whole time, waiting for things to start up again.”

“And how many times will that be?”

“There’s no exact number,” Louis said. “Waves are closer together and more frequent on the first day. I could have five then. Sometimes just three. And then two on every subsequent day for about three days. It’s different for everyone.”

Harry ran his hand down Louis’ back. “Are you feeling okay now?”

“Not so bad, thanks to you,” Louis said, tucking himself against Harry’s side with a crinkly-eyed smile. After a second, he added, “A cool shower would still be nice.”

“You could take one here,” Harry suggested.

Louis’ brow wrinkled as he thought that over. “Tempting. But I should probably leave soon. Before your mum wakes up. Or before the show starts up again.”

“It’s fine. You can stay.” _I want to take care of you._

“But your mum—”

“She won’t be up for hours,” Harry said. He didn’t know what was wrong with him but he really didn’t want to let Louis go anywhere. Maybe that was a side effect of the sex or something. He felt possessive—territorial might have been a better word—and he didn’t know that he liked it. Still, he held Louis a little closer and said, “Stay. Please? When she wakes up, you could even hide in the loo until she leaves for work, and I’ll make you pancakes.”

Not only was he tempted by the offer, Louis also seemed to be catching on to Harry’s unwillingness to let him go. “You have to get ready for school, though. I’ll just be in the way.”

“You weren’t planning to go to school, were you? I’ll stay home with you,” Harry said. And ruin his perfect attendance too. But he didn’t care.

Louis’ smile was growing on his face. “You know, I think I’m the one who should be all clingy right now.”

Harry’s cheeks started to feel a little warm. “You are being clingy.”

“I am not.”

Harry glanced down to where Louis’ hand was balled up in his t-shirt. Louis rolled his eyes and loosened his grip but didn’t let go.

“I’m not being clingy,” he repeated. “You smell good and you make me feel calm. It’s different.”

Harry huffed a laugh. “Whatever you say, Lou. Maybe I’m the clingy one then. I don’t know why. But I still want you to stay. Otherwise, I’ll walk you home and probably sleep in that tree near your window.”

“And it’s official. You’re in full-blown alpha mode as of right now,” Louis said.

Harry hugged Louis against his chest, his voice muffled by Louis’ hair when he said, “Yeah, so what?”

He heard Louis laugh and shift a little in his arms to get more comfortable and after a few minutes of silence, they both fell asleep.

+

**23 February 2018**

“Harry,” Louis murmured into his ear. “Wake up, please?”

Harry’s eyes popped open, signalling a sharp intake of breath at the sight of Louis perched in his lap, rocking his hips forward. He had his hands pressed against Harry’s chest but even without that contact, Harry could feel the heat radiating off of him.

A door shut somewhere down the hall. Some quick reasoning said it was his parent’s door and the soft thudding of feet said his mum was most likely headed their way.

“Louis,” Harry hissed, carefully shifting them so he could scramble off the bed and pull Louis with him.

Louis’ nails dug into Harry’s forearm. “Wait— Harry, I need you.”

“I know, I know.” Harry pushed the door of the en suite open and carefully guided Louis inside. He grabbed the flannel he’d be using throughout the night to help keep Louis cool and rinsed it with cold water, pressing it to Louis’ neck.

“Keep quiet okay? I’ll be right back I promise.”

Louis pulled him close to kiss him, not gently at all. He licked into his mouth and bit his bottom lip. “Please,” he said like that was the only word he knew.

Harry groaned, the scent of slick already overwhelming the small space. “I’ll be right back,” he repeated, pulling away, Louis’ nails dragging away from his skin. He pulled the door closed and unlocked his bedroom door. He never locked it and his mum would be suspicious if he started now.

He climbed back into bed and turned over onto his side. His mum was still padding around the hall. He heard another door close, probably the linen cupboard. And then her footsteps grew closer and closer. His doorknob turned and she peeked her head inside.

“H? You awake?” she called like usual.

He hummed sleepily and turned over. “Good morning.”

“I’m leaving for work now,” she said, pushing the door open a little further. “Make sure to take the rubbish out before you leave for school.”

“I will,” he said. “Have a good day.” He hoped she didn’t realize he was trying to get rid of her.

“What’s that smell?” she asked all of a sudden.

Harry’s stomach did a loop. “What smell?”

Anne’s nose twitched. She stepped a bit further into the room. “I’m not sure. But open a window. And change your sheets,” she said, coming even closer to press a kiss to his head. “And take a shower before you leave for school. You’re all sticky.”

“Will do. Bye mum.”

“Tata,” she said as she left and pulled the door shut. Harry waited thirty seconds before he hopped out of bed and locked the door again. He didn’t even have to head back the en suite. In his haze, Louis must have figured out that the coast was clear. Or maybe he just didn’t care. He was suddenly on him, flying up into Harry’s arms, which were open for him instinctively, wrapping his legs tight around his waist, with a hurried “please” whispered into Harry’s ear.

+

Louis took a shower and came out an hour later, smelling of Harry’s soap and shampoo, wearing a clean pair of Harry’s pants. Those weren’t purposeful methods of seduction but they were working just the same.

Harry’s parents were both gone for work, leaving the house pleasantly empty for him and Louis to walk around in just their pants. Harry made Louis a proper fry up and fixed them tea along with a very large glass of ice water for Louis.

Excluding that one time Harry nearly broke Ralph’s arm, he was unfamiliar with skipping school.

“Think I’ll get detention again?” he asked.

Louis munched on a piece of bacon. “Yup.”

Harry shrugged and continued forking beans into his mouth. Taking care of Louis was worth detention any day.

“Not to worry,” Louis said, as if Harry looked worried at all. “I’ll come by and keep you entertained.” He tacked on a wink, chewing his bacon with a devious smirk on his lips.

Later, after another blow job that Louis didn’t exactly need but wanted anyway, he was pacing the kitchen with his phone pressed to his ear. At the end of the other line was Jay. He didn’t speak much or for very long. It seemed his mum had a lot to say.

When he finally hung up and returned to the living room, he curled up next to Harry on the couch while SpongeBob played on the telly in front of them.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked.

“Depends on your definition of alright,” Louis said, taking a sip of his ice water. “I could’ve told her I stayed at Stan’s last night or something. But I hate lying to her and she figured things out on her own.”

And gone were any chances of making Jay like him now.

“I didn’t confirm anything but I didn’t have to,” Louis explained. “She’s better at keeping track of my heats than I am, so…”

“Is she angry?”

Louis rested his head against the back of the couch. “Not really. Just worried. She’s always worried.”

“She has no reason to be if you’re with me,” Harry said like he’d never been more confident about anything in his life. And it was true. He would rather bathe in a pool of molten lava, or something equally dramatic and painful, than ever hurt Louis. He didn’t say that out loud though because Louis would probably not stop laughing for the rest of the day if he did.

Louis smiled softly. He scooted closer, slipped his arms around Harry’s middle and rested his head against his chest. “You’re perfect, you know?” he mumbled, squeezing him as tightly as he could. “The most perfect alpha.” He leaned away from his chest and pressed their mouths together.

“The greatest, most perfect, most attractive,” Louis kept going, pulling at the waistband of Harry’s pants. He ducked his head into Harry’s lap.

“Mine,” Harry heard him say and his head dropped back against the couch, his eyes rolling. Louis pulled his mouth off the head of Harry’s cock, stroking him slowly. And right before he sucked him back down, he murmured, “All mine.”

+

**6 March 2018**

Fucking Louis wasn’t some trigger for them to start doing it all the time or behaving like the animals they kind of were. As phenomenal as that all had been, Harry wasn’t looking to push his luck.

But there were some changes, subtle nuances between how they were before and how they were after. Harry couldn’t explain it perfectly in words, the same way the love he felt for Louis couldn’t be explained either.

If he had to paint a picture, he would say that beneath the popularity and the skills and the charm that so many of their peers bought into, Louis was a puzzle. And bit by bit, maybe without realizing he was doing it, it was like he passed Harry another missing piece.

Harry didn’t know how much time they had together. Graduation was fast approaching and his worries about the summer and university in the fall never ebbed. But with what time he had now, he was learning a lot.

Like…the fact that Louis didn’t trust alphas, or any bond made with them, but he trusted Harry. It didn’t make sense but Louis trusted him, maybe in a way that he hadn’t ever trusted anyone. Because how else could you explain him showing up at Harry’s home when he was most vulnerable?

For now, it didn’t matter how much time was left. Harry would enjoy learning and gaining more from Louis for as long as he could.

He finished lacing his shoes and looked across the pitch. Louis was rolling a football under his foot but he’d been watching Harry. He smiled, wrinkling his nose (too cute for Harry’s sanity), and returned his attention to Zayn.

“So,” Niall said, drawing Harry’s attention away from the other side of the pitch. “Louis smells like you.”

Harry’s eyes were beginning to stray again and then they snapped back to Niall. “Wait, what?”

Niall nodded sagely, tossing his ball back and forth between his hands. “I think that’s only supposed to happen when you mate someone. But I know you didn’t do that because you would have told me. Right?”

Harry’s cheeks were flaming up like they were five seconds from bursting into flame. “I didn’t—we didn’t, I swear,” he said, his palms out. He didn’t find it necessary to go into the specifics.

“Okay. But he still smells like you,” Niall said matter-of-factly. “And I’m not the only one who thought so. So now everyone thinks he’s yours.”

 _He is mine._ Harry didn’t say that either.

They both glanced over to where Louis and Zayn were warming up together. He met Louis’ eyes again and this time Louis pulled a silly face. The ball Zayn had kicked toward him rolled past him and down the pitch. Zayn started shaking his head disappointedly.

Louis shrugged, laughing with Harry like they were the only two there. He gave a small wave and Harry waved back, before looking away, a ridiculous smile on his face and warm feeling starting up at the base of his spine.

Harry noticed Niall still staring across the pitch, lost in thought. When he followed his line of sight, he saw Zayn glance their way, just for a second before returning his attention to Louis.

And while the thought of Harry leaving his scent all over Louis was great, there were other pressing issues to consider.

“What’s going on with you and Zayn?” Harry asked.

Niall looked at him confusedly. It was almost convincing but Niall was an awful liar, just like Harry. He always had been. “Nothing.”

“You used to team up with him for drills, then you started teaming up with Ken, and now Ken’s out today, so it’s me,” Harry said. “What’s up?”

“Sorry I took you away from time with Louis,” Niall grumbled. He was never this moody either.

Harry frowned. “That’s not what I’m saying, you know that. You were weird at my birthday too. And I didn’t want to say anything, but you two are clearly avoiding each other. Just want to know if things are okay.”

“Don’t really want to talk about it,” Niall said. “And it’s time to line up.”

Harry watched Niall jog away. Others might not have known what to do in this situation. But he’d known Niall since they were twelve. He knew what to say to get him spilling his guts. He would use the method he always did. He’d stop talking about it, Niall would come over to play FIFA or watch a movie. They’d laugh and talk and eat some of Anne’s casserole, and then when Harry wasn’t expecting it, Niall would tell him what was wrong. It’d be that simple. It always was.

+

**9 March 2018**

Louis sent Harry a picture of his bare bum, his uniform shorts pulled down to his thighs, the linens of his bed around him. The text included read, ‘Come and get it’.

Harry choked on his banana, his face and neck flaming red, and he started to consider abandoning the whole plan to get Niall talking. But then…

"So I might have kissed Zayn."

Harry dragged two fingers apart on his phone screen, zooming in a bit, and then he froze, his head whipping around to Niall seated on the couch beside him.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Did Louis just send you a picture of his arse?” Niall questioned.

Harry locked his phone and dropped it on the couch beside him. “What did you say just now?”

“I kissed Zayn a month ago,” Niall said. "We were talking. And he started crying. And I meant to hug him. But then. I don't know— I kissed him. And for a second, he kind of kissed back. I think? And then he pushed me way. And he left. And he hasn't talked to me since."

Harry let that sink in. He exhaled a big breath. "Okay,” he said. “It's alright. You can just apologize. He'll forgive you, I know it."

"Yeah...don't think so. 'S probably for the best that we've stopped hanging out."

"Why would you say that?"

Niall shrugged, eyes falling on the remote in his hands and he pushed idly on the buttons, not changing the channel, just running his thumb across them.

"Kind of started to like him a bit,” Niall said. “So I don't know… Just, I know he's mated and all that. But he's—I don't know, H. I don't know anything anymore. He's just nice. He smells really nice too. Like all the time, even after practice. And he's gentle, you know? I think that's what Liam likes about him, fucking prick.”

Niall dragged his hands down his face, sighing loud and heavy. “You just— you don't meet people like him too often. People who are just good, inside and out."

Harry couldn't remember the last time Niall had had a crush on anyone. It was bizarre. But most of all, it was unfortunate. Had it been anyone else, he’d support Niall wholeheartedly. But he never could with Zayn.

"I'm sorry…" Harry said.

Niall shook his head. "Don't be," he said, leaning his head against the back of the couch. "You know what really blows, though? I think…maybe if he wasn't with Liam, he might have liked me too."

Maybe so. Harry actually pouted. “You want to have a cry about it?” he asked.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Harry kept pouting. He almost did want to cry.

"I mean it, Haz. It’s fine,” Niall said. He smiled, nudging his shoulder. And then he broke out into an intense rendition of “Don't cry for me, Argentina."

They laughed and yelled over a game of FIFA and sighed contentedly when Harry’s mum brought down the pie. Niall seemed to be feeling much better, now that he’d gotten some of the weight off his chest. Which meant it was time to ask the question he’d been putting off for too long.

“Hey,” he said, pausing the game.

Niall frowned, his controller frozen in his hands. “What’d you do that for?”

“I saw Liam’s dad a few weeks ago. He’s back in town. I don’t know how long he’s been here but I know it was him,” Harry said.

Niall was quiet the entire time, his brows creased. He couldn’t know the whole story about George because Harry had never told him. But maybe Zayn had.

“Is that why they broke up? Because of Liam’s dad?”

Niall looked away immediately, shoving more pie into his mouth like that would somehow make the question disappear. Harry just blinked at him.

“I told you I can’t tell you,” Niall said. “Even if he’s not talking to me right now, I still promised I wouldn’t say anything.”

“Okay. Fine,” Harry said. “Then I’ll just tell you what I think happened and you can just listen.”

“Can’t stop you from talking,” Niall said. He reached over to take Harry’s slice of leftover pie and finish that off too. It was a reasonable sacrifice for his attention.

“I know you’ve heard things over the years about what happened between me and Liam. And you’ve never asked about it. And you never seemed to care, and I’ve always appreciated that because I never wanted to talk about it,” Harry said. “But I will say that George Payne is fucking crazy. He’s abusive and he’s a drunk…and he nearly killed Liam when he was 10.”

Niall was looking at him now, a downward turn to his mouth.

“I think that if he was back to stay, Liam wouldn’t want Zayn anywhere near him. Liam’s not the greatest person, yeah. But you even said that you thought he left Zayn ‘cause he thought he was protecting him, right?”

“I thought you said all I had to do was listen,” Niall grumbled.

Harry sighed and then huffed a defeated laugh. He would bet money that he was right about all this. It was the only thing that made sense. But there was no way Niall would say a thing. Like Harry, he didn’t break his promises either.

“You can stop listening now. That’s all I’ve got,” Harry said. He started the game back up and they played through their round, the roar of the virtual stadium momentarily drowning out their thoughts.

“Thanks for telling me. About George,” Niall said at random after his team scored a goal and Harry was busy whining about it.

Harry’s frown melted easily. He reached out and ruffled Niall's blonde head. “Thanks for listening.”

+

**14 March 2018**

Harry armed himself with index cards, determined to use whatever time available to quiz Louis on geography terms for his exam tomorrow. There were a few other kids moving past them, heading for their cars or starting their own walk home.

“You know this one, Lou,” Harry said.

Louis twirled his football between his hands. “It’s either absolute or relative location.”

“Yeah, but which one?” Harry pressed. “Come on, babe.”

Louis stopped and looked at him, his brows raised. “You just called me babe.”

Harry blinked. Had he? He shuffled the cards in his hands. “I’ve said that before.”

“You definitely haven’t,” Louis said shaking his head, his face split with a grin. He reached up to tug on one of Harry’s curls. “Should do it more often.”

Harry smiled and started walking again. “Come on. Absolute or relative location?”

Louis bounced his football a few times as he thought. “Absolute.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry said, overly enthusiastic about a geography term.

“Yes what?” Louis tilted his head at him, brows wiggling.

Harry groaned, rolling his eyes. “Yes, babe.”

Louis just preened, starting to twirl his football in his hands, walking with a new bounce to his step. In the same instance, Harry froze, picking up on a smell he didn’t like, and swivelled quickly on the soles of trainers.

Liam was walking toward them, his hands tucked in his pockets.

“Aren’t you two cute,” he said, stopping a good distance away on the pavement.

Harry took a step forward, just past Louis. His smile had disappeared completely, replaced by a cautious, unfriendly set to his eyes and mouth. Louis’ hand curled around his forearm comfortingly.

“Easy,” Liam said. “I was only joking.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t make jokes if I were you,” Louis said with a scowl.

“What do you want?” Harry asked, leaving the sass to Louis.

Liam’s gaze flickered to Louis. “Think we could talk alone?” he asked.

“I’m not going anywhere, pal,” Louis assured him.

Harry smiled. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Alright then,” Liam said. His hands were now curled at his sides as they always were, as if to suggest ferocity and strength. But the way he stood with his shoulders hunched and his head slightly bowed made him seem nervous and unsure. And then he spoke, “I wanted to give you a heads-up. My dad’s back in town.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, I saw him,” he said. “A couple weeks ago. I was hoping he wasn’t planning to stick around.”

“He’s been here since December,” Liam said. “Things were fine, at first. But he’s starting to act out again. With the drinking and all that.”

_And all that._

Harry wondered if he’d been hitting them again too.

Liam exhaled. “Anyway, I don’t know what he’ll do. If he’s seen you, I wouldn’t put it past him to try some shit if he’s drunk enough. I’m not saying any of this so you can feel sorry about what you did.”

“I’m not sorry,” Harry said. Not anymore.

“I know—” Liam paused. Whatever it was he wanted to say then, he struggled to get it out. “And you shouldn’t be.”

God, this was bizarre.

“Is that your way of apologizing?” Louis said. “’Cause it’s shit, let me just say.”

Liam glared at him. “Hey,” Harry said, getting Liam’s attention back where it was safe for everyone. “Are we finished?”

“That’s all I wanted to say,” Liam said. “He won’t be around for long. I’m going to get rid of him.”

“How?” Harry asked. Not that he cared so long as the man was gone.

“Haven’t figured that part out yet.” Liam shrugged. “Just watch your back ‘til then.”

And then Liam started to turn away. Just like that, without another word.

“Thanks.”

The word slipped out of Harry’s mouth of its own volition, but he didn’t regret it. He didn’t wait for Liam’s reaction if any came, either. He turned, taking Louis’ hand in his, and continued on their walk home.


	17. Chapter 17

**15 March 2018**

Harry knew, of course, that Ralph and his boys hadn't just disappeared the minute he started dating Louis, but things had been going so well for three months he could be forgiven for forgetting all about them.

So he was taken by surprise when he collided with Ralph an hour before lunch, and the other boy’s eyes turned to slivers.

Harry lifted his brows, waiting.

“He smelled like me first,” Ralph said. “Just so you know.”

And Harry knew what he meant right away. He was going to kill him. “I don't think I remember that,” he said.

“He will,” Ralph said.

+

Harry wouldn’t trade what he had with Louis for the world, but being with him had its consequences. Sometimes he missed being invisible. It meant he could sit in the library and read a book in peace and no one looked twice at him. There were no longer moments of silence now, always someone buzzing in his space, pretending they hadn’t spent the last decade of school unaware of who he was.

When there were too many people and too many questions, sometimes he and Louis snuck away for a few minutes, between classes or during them. The cave beneath the bleachers, littered with empty beer cans and cigarette butts, had become their new safe haven.

“Thought I’d find you here.”

Harry paused and looked away from his journal to see Louis ducking beneath the metal bars of the bleachers.

“Did you want to be alone?” Louis asked. Always reading between Harry’s lines.

And yes, Harry had wanted to be alone. But this was Louis. And he always wanted to be around him. He shook his head. “Not if you’re here, no.”

Louis— he sort of glowed then, his smile earth-stopping. He came forward and took a seat across from Harry, leaning back against a metal beam. Harry was feeling better already.

Louis dug into his pocket and started to pull open a package of those Little Debbie chocolate cupcakes with the rainbow sprinkles. He held one out to Harry.

“Have some sugar. You look tired,” he said.

Harry accepted the cupcake gratefully. “I am tired.”

Louis turned his cupcake slowly like he was looking for the right place to take his first bite. He couldn’t seem to find it. “What’s wrong?” he asked, propping his arms atop his elbows, uneaten cupcake still in hand.

“Everything that's not you,” Harry told him.

“You’re especially poetic today,” Louis noted with a small smile. He knocked his knee against Harry’s. “Talk to me.”

Harry tried to get his words in order before he spoke. Already, he’d lied. Everything was wrong— _including_ Louis, in some ways at least. He wasn’t taking time to sort his feelings out. Now it was almost as if they couldn’t be sorted at all.

The truth was that Harry was worried about uni and the impending fate of their relationship, whatever that should be. He was worried about Liam who had just recently come to school with a busted lip and a bruising eye. He told himself things would work out. He told himself he didn’t care. He lied to himself 100 times a day. And in those rare moments that he considered the truth, he simply worried.

“You know sometimes you take a step back and everything looks like it’s out of place?” Harry asked, resting his head back. He didn’t see Louis nod but hoped he did.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Louis told him again, voice warm and smooth like a fresh cup of tea.

Harry answered by reaching into his rucksack sitting beside him and pulled out a large white envelope. He handed it to Louis, eyes steady on his face while Louis turned it over.

On the front, in gold letters were the words the University of Cambridge. Before Louis could ask questions, Harry handed him another. This one read the University of Oxford. The next, University of Manchester. The fourth envelope Harry handed him was from St. Andrews. And the fifth from Durham.

“Got into all of them.”

“Well, shit,” Louis breathed, glancing up at him.

Harry waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, he mumbled stupidly, “I know.”

Louis swallowed visibly, casting his eyes downward again. “So which one are you leaning toward?”

“None of them really. I’m waiting, I guess.” He didn’t elaborate on that point but he didn’t need to. “Have you heard anything?”

“I got a scholarship to the University of Manchester,” Louis said. He handed Harry the envelopes back and lifted his cupcake off his lap but didn’t go for a bite. “There were others, but— I’ve been speaking with that scout from Manchester City. And I think he’s trying to work out a way I can play for the club and study part-time.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

Louis exhaled. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn’t want this to affect which school you chose. And I still don’t want that, but I thought I’d let you know.”

“So, you’re going?” Harry asked.

Louis pursed his lips. “Nothing is set in stone, yet. It’s just really important that I finish school, in case football doesn't work out. And that I go to uni. I promised my mum, you know? I have to think about my family.”

“I’m proud of you,” Harry said because he hadn’t already and it was the most important thing he realized.

“I’m proud of _you_ ,” Louis said. “You got into a shit ton of schools. We should celebrate or something.”

“Yeah, maybe we should,” Harry said, although he wasn’t feeling up to it. Not with so much still in the air. Not without knowing where they stood together.

“Have you heard what people have been saying lately? About you and me?” Harry asked, his gaze drifting to Louis’ mouth and his top lip dotted a bit by chocolate.

“Everyone thinks we’re mated, don’t they?” Louis said while Harry debated on whether to lean in and lick his lip clean.

“Do you know why?” Harry asked carefully.

Louis’ eyes flickered to his. He shrugged his shoulder. “I mean, I guess.”

Louis smelled like him.

Harry could pick up on it now since Niall pointed it out. He was usually too focused on Louis’ own scent to smell much of anything else. But beneath or just above the earthy sweetness of Louis’ skin, there was a little tinge of himself there too.

And that was reason enough to think they’d mated, but Harry couldn’t stop thinking about what Ralph had said earlier.

Louis wasn’t looking at him, just munching on his cupcake and staring out towards the pitch. Harry’s own cupcake sat untouched in his hand.

“People have been talking a lot about you and Ralph too,” Harry said, voice trickling off in a feint of nonchalance.

Louis rolled his eyes. “I know,” he groaned. “It’s like I can’t get rid of him, Harry. Worst mistake of my life even talking to him.”

“Lou…” Harry started quietly. “What you did with me…the _way_ we did it— have you ever done that with anyone else?”

His gaze flickered up just in time to see Louis’ eyes narrow slightly, the wheels stopping and starting in his head.

“Are you asking me if I was a virgin?”

Leave it to him to put it plainly. Harry shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

“Bit late for that question, innit?”

Well, yes. But it hadn’t mattered to Harry at the time. Louis was in heat and Harry couldn’t really stop to ask questions. At least not expecting to get answers.

He’d just done his best to treat Louis as gently as possible. As if it were his first time. Because it would be Harry’s too…

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It doesn’t change anything—”

“I haven’t,” Louis said, cutting him off. “I haven’t done that with anyone else. I haven’t wanted to.”

Harry’s lips twitched. “Oh,” he said. “Alright, then.” He looked at the smudge of chocolate on Louis’ mouth again.

“Ralph tried to get me to do it,” Louis said, crumpling up his cupcake wrapper and stuffing it in his rucksack. He dusted off his hands. “He said he’d pull out, that it was no big deal. But by then, I’d already heard the rumours about him telling people we were mated. He must have thought I was stupid, like I’d just offer up my arse and have him knot me and swear it was an accident.”

Even now, Harry felt like going bananas. Months ago, had he somehow found out that Ralph tricked Louis into mating him, he totally would have ended up in a detention centre or something for attempted murder. Just thinking about it made his vision blur, made his hands curl into fists.

“I haven’t met anyone before you that I trusted to do that,” Louis continued, hugging his knees up to his chest. “And like I said, I didn’t want to.”

Harry’s gaze darted over his face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Louis smiled. “I couldn’t tell you. It all felt good at the time. Even when you just spoke to me. Felt like I was on drugs or something. It’s never felt like that before.”

He seemed to understand the gravity of what he was saying in the next second because his eyes drifted away.

“Anyway. Afterwards, I was a little sore but I think that’s normal. You didn’t hurt me. I don’t think you ever could.”

Harry took that as his cue to lean in finally and kiss him, tilting Louis’ mouth against his own. He didn’t pull back until he was sure the chocolate on his mouth was gone. They were both panting by then.

“How about you?” Louis murmured. “Anyone before me?”

Harry just looked at him, like that time Louis asked if he’d mated anyone. He couldn’t tell if he was asking seriously. “There is literally no one before you, Louis,” Harry said plainly. “You’re my first everything.”

Louis’ smile was noticeably sly like that had been his whole point in the first place. To get Harry to say just that. And knowing him, that was probably the case. Louis was such an omega in the way he constantly sought confirmation that Harry’s entire universe revolved around him. As if it wasn’t obvious.

He shuffled close so he could kiss Harry again, his cheeks slightly pinker when he pulled away. He dropped his head against Harry’s shoulder and Harry rested his head against his. They stilled for a few minutes, breathing in chilly winter air.

“I’m also…kind of worried about Liam,” Harry said almost too quiet to be heard. “I think maybe he might need help or something.”

Louis pulled back instantly, smile gone like it hadn’t been there in the first place. “What’s that have to do with you?”

Harry sighed. “I think, maybe, I could help him.”

Louis rubbed the heel of his hand into his forehead like a migraine had blossomed there suddenly. “Why?”

“Why else do people help each other?” Harry said.

“No. I don’t mean it like that and you know it. I mean, why you? Why do you think you could help him?”

“Why not me?”

“Why do you keep answering questions with questions?” Louis asked, pinching him in his dimple. Harry laughed, trapping Louis’ hand in his own. Louis decided to leave it there. “Maybe because he’s been awful to you. And he could turn on you. Maybe because you’ve already tried to help him once and it backfired?”

Harry’s gaze flickered away, his smile slipped into a contemplative pout.

Louis said quietly, “I’ve never been loyal to Liam. I didn’t like him when I met him and that’s never changed for me. But I know you two were friends. I know, maybe, you still feel loyal to him somehow. And maybe you still care because that’s the kind of person you are. And I love that about you.”

Harry’s eyes locked on him at the sound of the word. Louis noticed and hurried to continue. “But I care about you. And I don’t want to see you end up hurt or something because of him.”

Harry studied him for a moment before he went back to picking at the frayed seam of his uniform trousers.

“I know he’s fucked up a lot. And I’m not saying I want to be his friend or anything like that. But I could help him,” he said, looking at Louis even if Louis’ eyes were cast down now. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Louis nodded. “Yeah, I know,” and he returned his head to Harry’s shoulder.

The bell rang a minute later. Louis didn’t budge. “We should just skip.”

“Looking for another hour of detention?”

“Nothing wrong with that. We have a lot of fun in detention,” he said, pulling back to smirk and wiggle his brows.

Harry’s ears felt hot all of a sudden, memory triggered with thoughts of Mr Smead’s classroom the week after Louis’ heat, of Louis’ warm eager mouth slipping down his cock beneath the table. There were five other students in the room that time. And Harry had needed to bite down on his own wrist to keep quiet.

Now Louis smiled slowly, knowingly. “Did I just convince you?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not a chance, Lou. You have a Calc test next week. You can’t miss a class now. Come on,” he said, standing and holding his hands out for him. Louis grumbled but allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. They dusted off their trousers.

“I’ll see you after school?” he said, brushing his thumb over Harry’s dimple.

Harry slipped his hands into his pockets. “See you then.”

“Eat your cupcake,” Louis said, jabbing his finger at the abandoned treat. He stretched up on tiptoes for a kiss. And then he slipped back through the metal poles supporting the bleachers and hurried across the pitch.

Harry waited another minute or so, finished his cupcake in three bites, and started off on the same path.

+

His mum insisted they at least do _something_ to celebrate his university acceptances. At least before she left for her business stay in London. Something turned out to be baking a cake.

He still didn’t feel there was anything to celebrate just yet. It was one thing to be accepted into university. But if he never made his mind up on where to go, it would all be for nought.

Cake, however, was a fair compromise.

They were in Tesco that day after school to pick up ingredients. His mum sent him off in search of the eggs and butter while she remained at the opposite end of the store. His phone buzzed again in his pocket. He fished it out while scanning around for brown eggs.

 **6:22 pm:** _Text me when I can come over! x_

Harry sent Louis’ a quick response, idly reaching for a carton of eggs with his free hand. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going as he turned away.

Which was why he bumped into the fridge in the centre of the aisle where the fancy organic and aged cheeses were stocked.

The eggs slipped out of his hand. And he could catch them now before they hit the ground. For an alpha it would be no problem.

But someone else beat him to it.

“Some things never change,” Liam said. Harry’s eyes snapped up to meet his, his whole body tensing.

Who knew where he’d even come from? Harry hadn’t seen him or smelled him until he was right there. Liam handed the eggs back to him.

“Relax. I’m just here for eggs.”

Harry didn’t relax. “Thank you,” he said taking the egg carton. He popped it open to make sure none of the eggs had broken. When he glanced up, Liam was already walking away, sure enough to peruse the eggs.

The bruise around his eye was healing up quickly. It was so faint now no one would really notice it. But Harry did. Because he’d seen it before when it was purple and pink and hard to miss, even if no one cared enough to think about it twice.

Harry wanted to go find the butter and his mum and head home so they could get started on her pineapple pound cake. He wanted to have Louis over so they could watch a movie in the living room and have their cake with ice cream and maybe make out for a bit when his mum left the room. That was an ideal way for the rest of his day to play out.

Instead he turned and called, “Liam.” He saw the boy stop. And then he made a decision that could alter not just his day, but perhaps the rest of his life too.

+

**16 March 2018**

Harry knew all of the opposing team’s members by name, particularly its defenders. There was Ned Walsh, Mike Hunt, Alex Bellman and most notably, Paul Bass. Paul was a big lad, a beta with the build of an alpha and nothing memorable about his role on the field. That is—aside from being the one who pushed Louis during their last match.

Harry wasn’t holding a grudge or anything. Louis could handle the roughness of the game just fine. Not to mention he dominated amongst alphas and betas and whoever else with ease. He was prepared to get thrown around a bit, take a few hits and falls if necessary.

But still. When Harry got the chance to smack right into Paul and knock him to his feet, well…he took the chance. Immediately afterwards, he extended a hand and helped him up. He asked him if he was alright while the boy struggled for breath, and shambled off.

Louis passed behind Harry a second later and shot him a devious smile, sliding up close to murmur, “I think you did that on purpose, Styles.”

Harry shrugged. “Can't prove it,” he said, hiding his own smile by choosing then to wipe the sweat from his upper lip.

“My hero,” Louis called, pressing his hands to his heart. He laughed as he jogged away, sending Harry a wink that brought a ridiculous rush of blood to his cheeks.

They won their match against Oakley 3-2. And Harry and Louis were the ones to make the winning goal. There was an opening ahead of him between Mike and Alex. Narrow, yes. But if Harry pulled that deke move Louis had taught him, get up close to Mike, spin, ease past Alex, he slipped through like butter.

Louis was on his left. He didn't need to look to know that. He could smell him, could feel him. His omega, even without the bond. He sent the ball to him. And Louis of course was there to kick it home.

When it happened, the bleachers exploded. He could hear the roar of their parents and friends, saw the slump of the other team’s shoulders, but everything else paled in comparison to Louis- Louis who was suddenly on him, arms around Harry’s waist, bodies smacked together with force that nearly caused Harry to tumble.

He held onto him, heard him whisper fiercely. “You're amazing, Harry.”

And there wasn't even time to bask in the thrill of those words. Right then Niall was on him too and then Louis pulled Zayn into the hug. And Paul and Ian. The whole team caught in this cluster of excitement. And Harry and Louis were at its centre.

+

By now, Louis’ mum and sisters were long gone, along with all the other parents and the same man who’d been scouting Louis for weeks. When the bleachers began to empty and Ian’s party was set to start any minute, Louis took Harry’s hand. “Come with me,” he said.

Without immediate question or concern, Harry started walking alongside him, though they were headed away from the car park like they should be. “Niall’s waiting for us in the car,” he commented absently.

Even so, he kept walking, certain that Louis was looking for a dark corner so they could kiss for a bit. And Harry was never opposed to that.

“I told him to go ahead without us. He was talking to Zayn anyway,” Louis tugged on his hand. “Come on.”

Harry shot a glance behind them before they slipped beneath the bleachers. He didn't stop there like Harry expected him too. They kept moving, breaking through the opposite end of the bleachers.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked.

“You'll see.”

They strolled stealthily through campus, avoiding lighted areas and opting for the cover of dark corners and pathways. Louis led them to the parking area designated for school buses, far off away from the football pitch and the entrance to the school in general.

“What are we doing?”

“ _You’ll_ _see_ ,” Louis repeated, shooting him a smile over his shoulder.

They were walking between the buses now, bypassing at least five before Louis seemed to find the one he was looking for. The one marked Bus #85. He stopped at the door of the bus and pushed on the center hinge. With a resistant whine, the door buckled enough for them to push it the rest of the way open.

“Definitely supposed to be locked,” Harry commented.

“Not tonight,” Louis said cryptically.

Later Harry would ask him how he came to know that. Right now, he was focused on Louis’ beautiful bum as he climbed the small set of steps into the bus, still pulling Harry along.

Louis walked them past rows of dark green seats to the second to last seat at the back of the bus and turned, eyes set on Harry with a distinguishable gleam.

“Before we head off to the party, I thought we should have our own small celebration,” Louis said with his palms against Harry’s chest and he pushed him backward into the seat. Harry went easily, way too excited about where this was going to do much else.

“What kind of celebration?” Harry asked. By now though, he felt he already knew. Already, he was tenting the loose fabric of his shorts.

“You know…” Louis hooked his thumbs over his waistband. “The kind where I ride your cock ‘til you’re weeping my name.” He pushed his shorts down.

Harry watched them slide over his legs and pool around his ankles. His gaze flickered back up, past the flushed head of Louis’ exposed cock, and up to the smug little smile on his perfect little face.

“I think-- that’s the best kind there is,” Harry mumbled stupidly. He'd been expecting just a blow job if he was to be totally honest. Never this.

Louis pressed his hands into Harry’s shoulders, swung a leg over his hips and leaned in for a deep kiss, taking Harry’s tongue into his mouth. And the groan from deep in Harry's throat when he ground his hips down.

“Need to get your shorts out of the way first,” Louis murmured, already going breathless.

“Louis-” Harry dropped his head to his shoulder and they stilled. “Lou.”

Fuck his stupid proclivity toward internal debate. Even now when Louis was inadvertently rubbing his bare ass over Harry’s crotch, smearing slick on his uniform shirts—and Jesus, hopefully his mum wouldn’t notice that when she did the wash.

There was no time for internal debates. And yet.

“I don’t know if we should,” Harry said pressing a kiss to his collarbone, holding him close because he didn’t want Louis to think he was rejecting him. “It's risky.”

“It’s okay,” Louis touched his face gently and pulled him into another kiss. “It's okay. Just trust me. It's all I've been thinking about. I think about it all the time.”

Harry’s whole chest sank with the deep breath he exhaled. All his better judgment sank away too. “Please,” Louis said, dropping another kiss on his mouth, hooking his fingers over the waistband of Harry’s shorts and tugging gently. “Just trust me,” he repeated.

Harry did, more than anyone else.

Harry knew better. And he was well-read on the dangers of “sex before mating,” as it was so often termed in textbooks or those booklets at the doctor’s. They were just clumsy kids, high off their recent victory and higher off each other. Mistakes were likely to happen.

But, Harry thought about the February night in his bedroom too. All the time without reprieve. He dreamed about it and wanked to it. He wrote poems about it.

He was only a kid. He wasn’t meant to be sensible all the time. And how could he be when the most beautiful person in the world actually wanted him?

With a silent understanding passing between their gazes, Harry lifted his bum off the seat and helped push his shorts down enough to expose himself, a little clumsily with Louis in his lap and his scent filling up the limited air inside the bus.

Louis reached down between their bodies, fingers wrapping around the hard length of Harry’s cock. Harry's heart thudded rapidly in his chest, near to giving up and giving out. He squeezed his eyes shut momentarily.

Louis used his grip on Harry’s shoulder to steady himself, eyes on the decreasing space between them. Harry made no attempt to intercept or offer assistance. Louis seemed fine on his own. He guided Harry’s cock to his hole and then, without much hesitation, he sank down, ever so slowly.

It was like coming home. Even with just the tip of his cock nudged in him, it was phenomenal. Louis was warm and wet and tight, and Harry felt at home.

His hands scrambled for Louis’ hips to steady him. His eyes flickered up and down between his cock disappearing into Louis’ heat and the focused look in Louis’ eyes. He wished it were possible to see both at the same time, to capture everything in this moment for safekeeping.

Louis slipped down until his bum met Harry’s hips, punching a gasp out of both their mouths. He stilled for a moment to adjust to the stretch, tilting his forehead against Harry’s. “I missed this. I missed you,” he said. “You feel so good.”

Harry nodded as best as he could, hands spreading on Louis’ lower back. “You too. I might- I don’t know, I might not last very long.”

“It’s okay,” Louis kissed his cheek, repeated. “It’s okay.”

For a second they stayed just like that, holding onto each other in a moment that felt radically intimate and crucial.

It was so different from the last time. They were doing this not out of necessity but pure want. And Louis was here with him, body and mind, not eons away in the clutches of his heat. He wanted Harry because he was Harry. Not because he was an alpha to help him through the high.

“Are you okay?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Louis said, blinking long lashes over dazed eyes. “Yeah, I’m perfect.” He decided then to lift himself a bit and slip back down.

Harry let his head fall back against the bus seat, his eyes shutting for just a second. He felt Louis push his hands into his hair and thread his fingers through his loose curls.

He started to move almost like a belly dancer, circled his hips, swayed them, whatever it took to get Harry nudged up inside of him as deep as he could, smearing slick all over their skin. It was hypnotic the way he moved, like Louis himself was hypnotized, caught in the same spell he was casting on Harry. Funny that.

“You know—” Louis murmured, his voice going breathless and pitchy. “You could have scored that goal yourself tonight. You're incredible, I know you could have. And you passed it to me. You know how lucky you are that I didn’t jump you right there on the pitch?”

Lucky wasn’t quite the word.

“I don’t think Coach would’ve appreciated that…” Harry’s laugh fell off when Louis’ snapped his hips forward just right. Harry must have hit his spot head on because Louis’ groaned and clenched around him reflexively.

Harry’s next words were embarrassingly babbled. “Now you see how I feel every day. When we’re just—when we’re surrounded by a bunch of people. I want you all the time. It's crazy. You don't even know—”

Louis moaned and fisted his hands in Harry’s hair like he thought he would fall if he didn’t. “I’m so close, Harry. Fuck, I’m—”

HIs head lolled back, exposing his neck. Perhaps purposefully.

Harry pressed his mouth to the flushed skin, lapping up Louis’ sweat like it was water. He nipped gently, eager to bite and mark him up. He didn’t even know where the urge came from, just that it was irrepressible when it did.

He thrusted upward, prompted by that same urge and took them both by surprise. Louis whimpered and his hands moved to clutch the top of the seat while Harry’s fingers dug into his waist so tightly they would leave bruises for later. He steadied his feet on the floor of the bus and started moving with Louis, vaguely aware that he was swelling fast, not really caring so long as he kept Louis whining the way he was.

It was possible that not even during Louis’ heat had Harry ever wanted to knot him as desperately as he did now. He was aching for it, felt the pressure building up in the pit of his stomach, begging for release, and he wanted it to happen inside Louis.

Louis gripped the seat as if he intended to rip it apart. He mouthed at Harry’s ear, told him he was about to come. And in the next second, he tucked his face into Harry’s neck, body quivering as warmth coated the front of Harry’s jersey.

The base of his cock ached, and Louis just kept rocking against him, delirious and dazed.

“Lou,” Harry warned him, reality kicking him in the head. He was way too close, could feel himself catch on Louis’ rim, seconds away from being too late to pull out at all. “Louis.”

“You would love to, wouldn’t you?” Louis murmured. “You would love to tuck your knot up in me. Lock me down.”

“ _Louis_ . Don’t-” _Don’t say that_. Because even just thinking about it was too much. “You know that.”

Louis moaned. Like that was all he’d wanted to hear. And he pulled off of him, Harry’s cock slipping loose.

Dazedly, Louis scampered down between the seats, positioning his face between Harry’s spread legs. He wrapped a hand around Harry overtop the knot, larger now than a half-second ago, and he moved his mouth over the flushed head, tongue out, jaw slack, and pumped his hand eagerly.

Harry came almost instantly, spreading creamy white all over Louis’ tongue and mouth and cheek. Louis slipped his mouth down around him and swallowed as much as he could. Some flowed past his lips and Louis chased it with his tongue. He licked him clean with kitten licks and kisses.

And when he was done, he gazed up at him with bright blue eyes reflecting the dim light of the moon, his damp hair mussed by the back of the bus seat.

There was a hectic quality to his gaze, almost panicked and awestruck, and Harry thought he knew what it meant. He wouldn't pretend he understood everything going on in Louis’ head. Because that was far from true.

But sometimes…Louis looked at him like he loved him too. Like he was just as consumed by all of this as Harry was.

And then, he blinked and looked elsewhere.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he said suddenly. “About you knotting me. Don’t know where that came from and I didn’t mean to tease you.”

Harry shook his head. “It’s alright. I’m not upset.”

“Even so,” Louis said. “I don’t know why I said it. And I’m sorry.”

Harry didn’t really know why either. He swallowed around the anxious lump in his throat.

“No harm done,” he lied. “Come here.” He held out his hands for him. Louis took his hand and pulled himself back up, into Harry’s lap. He sighed when Harry kissed him, pressing gentle, warm fingers against either side of Harry’s face.

“We should hurry back,” Louis murmured, belying his own words when he tucked himself against Harry’s chest. He glanced down between them and laughed breathily. “As soon as you’re able.”

“Cheeky,” Harry grumbled. “This only happens because of you.”

“I’m flattered,” Louis smiled. “Hopefully it doesn’t take _too_ long. We have to change if we’re going to go to the party. If you still want to.”

“I’m in if you are,” Harry said. It wasn’t a big deal to him. Not anymore. Parties were significantly less overwhelming now that he and Louis were _HarryandLouis_. People expected them to come. The attention sometimes was annoying. But when he stuck close to Louis, no one could fault him for it now.

+

Ian’s house was pretty much packed by the time they got there, loud chatter and even louder music swathing them as soon as they stepped inside. The smell of pizza and alcohol and weed drifted through the main hallway populated by some folks from school and other’s from the surrounding boroughs.

Louis’ fingers were hooked over Harry’s, holding loosely but securely while they weaved their way towards the kitchen in search of Stan and Niall.

“You think Zayn showed?” Harry stepped a little closer to speak into Louis’ ear.

Louis shook his head, shooting him a frown and a shrug. He started to open his mouth and say something else, but a classmate of theirs tapped Louis’ shoulder right then and offered him a greeting hug. Louis chatted with her for just a second.

They got pulled into another conversation about the game and how awesome that final goal was. Nearby was a boy from Oakley, mouth twisted in a bitter smile. Harry and Louis shared a knowing glance just before continuing on their way.

More people said hi to them. Pretty much everyone said hi to them. Harry thought the world was big when nobody knew who he was. But it got bigger. He didn’t recognize half the people who spoke to him and called him by name, or pulled him into a hug. One girl babbled on and on about how cute he and Louis were, how unexpected they were but “ _gosh_ , so perfect together.”

Louis was distracted by another person chattering to him about scouts—his least favourite subject as of late. And they both knew why.

The girl Harry was talking to—he still didn’t even know her name—gestured at his head. “You know, I love how curly your hair is,” she was saying. Harry saw Louis’ gaze slide to her. Harry smiled diplomatically.

“If you cut it a bit at the front, I bet it’d really bring out your eyes,” the girl commented. Harry was quite sure she meant it in an amicable way. And he didn’t think she was interested in him at all, seeing as the other girl standing about two paces behind her was likely her date or something.

But Louis was an omega and thus unapologetically defensive. Even when he didn’t have to be. He stopped his own conversation to cut into Harry’s.

“His hair is fine the way it is,” he told her with a smile.

Her eyes widened just a bit. “Oh, of course. Yeah, it’s great.”

Louis’ eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. He didn’t like that either. Harry started to laugh. And before this could get any worse, he sent the girl a smile of his own and said, “Thanks.”

And then he pressed his free hand to Louis’ hip and started guiding him once again toward to the kitchen.

“She was flirting with you right in front of me,” Louis was murmuring, mostly to himself. As an afterthought he added, “Did you see that?”

Harry breathed a laugh and spoke close to his ear, “I think she has a girlfriend. The one that was standing behind her.”

“Whatever,” Louis grumbled. God, he was adorable. Harry pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, just beside his ear. And Louis nearly slumped back against him, his whole body going soft, the tension pulled free like a plug from a drain. He glanced back at Harry, his smile small, gaze bashful. “Don’t try to pacify me with kisses.”

“Why not? It’s working,” Harry replied.

Louis rolled his eyes but could do nothing to hide the flush of his cheeks.

They refused to stop this time until they found their friends, a slice of pizza, and maybe a drink. Or so they said.

“Boys!” someone shouted right as they stepped into the kitchen. That would be Ian. There was an older man standing close to him, old enough that he probably didn’t belong at a school kid party. “This is Renaldo. My alpha.”

The one from London, if Harry remembered correctly, who was both Ian’s alpha and…well, his sugar daddy, if everyone was being honest. He funded all of Ian’s parties, clad him in expensive clothes and watches. Thankfully, Ian was eighteen and therefore free to indulge in his older alpha as much as he wanted to, without having morality codes thrown in his face.

Harry and Louis shook the man’s hand.

“These are my friends, Louis and Harry. They’re mated too,” Ian told Renaldo.

Jesus. Harry looked at Louis immediately, found him opening his mouth, probably to issue a correction. Now was the time, if any. But then Louis closed his mouth, his ears a little pink, his eyes flickering to Harry.

Odd. Harry’s brows creased. “Uh, actually--” he started to say. No reason why he couldn’t be the one to clear things up.

Louis’ gaze snapped to him again. And it was so weird. Something about his gaze said ‘no’. Harry’s voice trickled off.

“Hm?” Ian hummed, raising his brows. Harry didn’t respond. Ian didn’t really care. “Oh, look, there’s Liam!”

That was enough to snap Harry and Louis out of the staring contest they were having. Harry had so many questions he couldn’t focus on just one. He decided to not focus on any of them. Later, maybe. Definitely later.

They turned away from each other, Louis releasing his hand when he stepped up to the kitchen counter and lifted the lid on a box of pizza. “Pepperoni?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Harry said, momentarily distracted by Louis’ bum as he leaned over the counter. The day that stopped happening would probably be the day Harry died. In fact, it might even be the cause of death. Like as they’re crossing a busy street, his attention shifts for a second to Louis’ bum, just in time for a truck to come zooming along and— why was he even thinking about this?

He blinked, looked away, and watched Ian and Renaldo head into the next room where Liam was moving through a group of swaying party guests.

Even with the number of people between them, Harry and Liam’s eyes met. Harry just stared at him, lips set in a straight line. Liam was expressionless too. The corner of his eye was still darkened by a bruise. Dead weight settled in Harry’s chest.

Liam looked away first, in order to greet Renaldo. And then Louis was holding a slice of pizza out to Harry, nibbling on the corner of his own slice.

Louis glanced over at Liam. “What he’s doing here?”

“Looking for Zayn maybe?” Harry offered. He couldn’t think of another reason.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Good luck with that. Pretty sure Zayn went home.”

Harry shook his head. “If Liam’s here looking for him, it means Zayn is here too. He would know.”

An alpha always knew where their omega was. And vice versa. It was the nature of things. Louis blinked at him, the realization donning.

“He told me he wasn’t coming,” Louis said, clearly annoyed.

“He said that last time too,” Harry reminded him, taking a big bite of his pizza.

They hopped up onto the counter side-by-side, their shoulders and thighs pressed together, and ate and watched the party buzzing around them. It was safer here than in the heart of the commotion, not as many people looking to bother them.

“Stan says he’ll come to the kitchen soon. He’s playing pong with some people in the basement,” Louis explained, thumb sliding over his phone.

So they waited and ate some more and passed a bottle of beer back and forth. Louis swung his legs side to side, knocking his Toms against Harry’s Converse. And then he settled on hooking his ankle around Harry’s, resting his head against Harry’s shoulder.

Harry probably wouldn’t cut his hair anytime soon (not until graduation perhaps). He liked it the way it was and Louis often said he did too. But while that girl—whatever her name turned out to be—had been wrong about his hair, she was right about one thing.

They were perfect together. With Louis, Harry felt complete. Anyone could see it.

Even Liam, who passed through the kitchen in the next minute. He glanced at them, slowed for a half second when he met Harry’s gaze. And then without a word to either of them, he headed toward the back door, determination written all over his face. Harry watched him with his beer bottle poised at his mouth.

“Odd,” Louis commented, his head lifted slightly to peer over Harry’s shoulder. “Wonder what he’s up to.”

Nothing good? That was Harry’s first thought. But he knew that wasn’t true anymore. Not since their conversation at Tesco.

_“You’re technically stronger than he is, aren’t you?” Harry said. “You have betas. He doesn’t. That makes you stronger, doesn’t it?”_

_Liam huffed a laugh. “You don’t know anything about alphas, Harry. Even now.”_

_“It’s just a thought,” Harry grumbled. This was pointless. Liam was proving to be just as big of a dick as always. And Louis was turning out to be right that Harry should just mind his business._

_“I don’t have betas anymore,” Liam said. “I told them to leave me alone.”_

_Harry frowned. “Why would you do that?”_

_“Why do you care?” Liam countered, turning away from the eggs, pinning Harry with a glare. He didn’t look as menacing as he used to. Even with the bruise._

I don’t, _Harry wanted to say. He didn’t want to care. But the fact was that he did. Because the last time George Payne was in town, Liam nearly died. Who knew what might happen this time around?_

_“That’s not the question you should be asking,” Harry told Liam. “It’s how. You should be asking me how I care after all the shit you’ve done to me and Louis—”_

_“Give me a fucking break—”_

_“You’re alone, Liam,” Harry cut him off. He was so tired of hearing him talk. “You’re alone and your eye looks like shit. And I don’t want to be your friend. And I don’t want to care. But you’re alone. You shouldn’t be asking why someone cares. You should just be grateful that they do.”_

Liam hadn’t said anything afterwards. And Harry had given up on the whole thing. He’d done enough for right then. Maybe, if he ever mustered more patience, he would try again.

The point was that Liam was beta-less. He’d lost his omega. And his deranged father was living at home. Surely, there were enough bad things already sprouting up in his life for him to plant any more. He hadn’t come here to do harm to anyone. Harry didn’t know exactly why he was here. But he was about 97% sure that wasn’t it.

They got their answer when a second later Niall came through the same door Liam had left through, his face flushed, eyes sort of unfocused. He saw Harry and a laugh bubbled up from his mouth, sort of hysterical and shocked.

“Not my fault this time, I swear,” Niall said, holding his palms out.

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked. Even as he started to work it out himself. And, _shit_. Holy shit. “Niall, you didn’t.”

“He moved first this time,” Niall said, with a shrug. “Not my fault.”

Harry groaned. “Oh, shit.”

It was Louis’ turn to be confused. His head was gone from Harry’s shoulder, gaze shifting between them. “What is he talking about?”

Harry wished he’d told him about Niall and Zayn before. He’d been meaning to but it’d only been a few days ago that Niall had told him in the first place, and between his relationship with Louis and university choices, he wasn’t making it a priority.

Anyway, now he wouldn’t get the chance.

Because then Liam was coming back through the door. And everything from that moment on happened in half-seconds of blurring bodies and sound and color: Liam grabbing hold of Niall’s shirt, snarling as he forced him into the wall behind him, Zayn, right on Liam’s heels, clutching the back of his jacket. Harry and Louis hopping down off the countertop. The beer bottle he haphazardly dispensed on the edge fell and shattered.

They were all like bolts of lightning with how quickly they moved, how fast the whole thing escalated. Like if you blinked, you’d miss it all. Every eye was on them. Ian and Renaldo. That girl that complimented Harry’s hair. The majority of the team.

“He’s mine,” Liam hissed between gritted teeth. “Do you hear me? _Mine_.”

“You let him go,” Niall snapped back and pushed him away. He did it effortlessly. Never mind that Niall was an alpha, he had the whole Irish thing going for him too. Fights didn’t come of any particular difficulty to him.

“Fuck you,” Liam growled, shoving him hard. Niall shoved back, sent him stumbling a little into Zayn. Someone was about to throw a punch, Liam, Niall, or one of the drunk kids hooting for a fight. Zayn had his arms around Liam’s waist now, trying to hold him back, even if it would be impossible for him.

Greg was suddenly at the doorway to the kitchen with a lad named Joe, one of his betas. Even if any of Liam’s boys were here, in that moment, he was still painfully outnumbered. And again, Harry wasn’t even sure if they would help him now.

“Please, stop,” Harry heard Zayn say.

Liam didn’t look like he was going to listen. “Please,” Zayn repeated. “Just stop.”

Everyone was watching them, watching Liam really. Just waiting. Someone had even cut the music off. He was outnumbered and perhaps out of practice and there was no way this was a fight he would win. And somehow he still looked ready to try. Desperation—it would do that to you.

Once more, Harry heard Zayn murmur. “Please, Liam.”

And with an angry grunt Liam turned, breaking away from Zayn’s hold easily. He headed right back out the door. Zayn followed him immediately, the metal of the door slapping loud against its frame when it swung shut behind them.

Harry looked at Niall, expressionless except for the slightest downturn of his lips. Niall shrugged again, his jaw clenched. Not his fault, right? That was true, Harry supposed. It was Liam’s fault really. He’d let Zayn go.

The silence that followed stretched on for what seemed like forever, everyone still waiting, perhaps for Liam to rush back in with a chainsaw and wreak true havoc on their evening.

It ended only when Ian shouted, “Alright! Who’s ready for more Jell-O shots?”

Most people, apparently. Their attention spans could rival flies with how they all started cheering. Niall left with Greg following behind him. Louis got a hold of Harry’s sleeve.

“We should go too,” he said.

Harry glanced around. Already he could see some people hovering, ready to ask questions. He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, taking Louis’ hand again. “Let’s find Stan.”

+

The concurrent tension dissipated by the time they were tucked into Stan’s couch. Zayn texted Louis to let him know he was alright and safe at home, which was good enough for now. Tomorrow, Louis would try once again to get him talking.

Now, they all were growing sleepy, drunk on half-warmed beer and bathed in the bluish glow of the TV.. Stan’s girlfriend was perched in his lap, sound asleep. And Cory was sitting alone in the armchair across the room, shooting glances at Harry and Louis when he thought they wouldn’t notice. Mostly it was Louis who noticed and snuggled a little closer each time. He was almost in Harry’s lap by now.

The TV played loud enough that they could speak quietly and Louis’ ear was close enough that Harry could whisper. “I think we should talk about earlier,” he said.

Louis’ brows twitched. “About Niall and Zayn?”

Harry shook his head. “About us.”

Louis rested his head against the back of the couch, brows still pinched in confusion. “What about us?” he mumbled warily.

Harry hesitated for just a second. He dropped his voice to an even softer whisper, and rested his forehead against Louis’ for no reason except that the contact made him feel braver. “When Ian said what he said about us, you didn’t correct him. And I don’t think you wanted me to either. Why?”

Louis turned away and focused on the TV.

“Is that what you want to tell people? That we’re mated?” Harry asked.

Louis’ eyes roamed for a minute over his face. He shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed against the couch.

“Why would you want that? When you don’t actually want—”

“I don’t mind if people think that about us,” Louis said, turning his beer bottle in his hand.

Harry’s heart sort of hurt. In a good way, he thought. “Tell me why.”

Louis shook his head. “I don’t know. Sometimes,” he began. His voice was hushed. Harry’s gaze fell to his mouth to read his lips. His mistake—because it only made him want to kiss him. He always wanted to kiss Louis. Until his lips were red and damp and bruised. Louis spoke. Harry read the words as they left his mouth. “Sometimes I like the way it sounds.”

In the dark of the room, their eyes met.

Harry leaned in and kissed him, gentle with the slightest press of his tongue. “You like how it sounds?” he repeated when he pulled away. That didn’t even make sense. God, he made no sense. Harry loved that.

“Belonging to you. It doesn’t sound bad at all,” Louis told him quietly.

Harry kissed him a little firmer, more desperate. Louis’ scent kicked up a little. Not enough for anyone else to pick up on it just yet. But it was only a matter of time if Harry didn’t stop. So he _did_ stop because he felt weirdly territorial. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else smelling or seeing Louis aroused.

“Let’s go,” Louis murmured into his ear, already shuffling off the couch. Harry hurried up after him.

“We’re going to take the room downstairs,” Louis told Stan.

Stan shrugged. “Just be conscious about the sheets. My mum will wash them and I don’t want her to have questions for me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Louis said, tugging on Harry’s hand.

Their escape couldn’t have been any more obvious. It was still too early for them to actually be going to sleep. But Harry didn’t care. They made it to the bottom of the steps before he was pressing Louis into the wall and kissing him deep, grinding his hips forward.

“Let’s do it again,” Louis said, deftly unfastening Harry’s jeans, voice breathless. “Come on, baby. Let’s do it again.”

At some point, Harry was going to stop fucking Louis. He was going to get his head on straight and remember that there were risks. Lots of them.

But now was not that time.

+

“We can let people think what they want,” Harry said, brushing Louis’ sweaty fringe away from his forehead. “I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”

“I won’t,” Louis said, shuffling even closer to mold himself to Harry’s side. Maybe it was an omega thing or just a Louis thing but he was undeniably clingy after sex, turning his nose into Harry’s skin to catch more of his scent, running his hand up and down Harry’s stomach. Currently he was licking over a bite mark he’d left on Harry’s chest.

He rolled over and perched himself very contentedly in Harry’s lap, hands spread on his stomach. He leaned in and started licking at another mark on Harry’s throat.

Harry didn’t ask questions. He let him do his thing.

“We’re building up a nice history in this room,” Louis murmured eventually, sitting back in Harry’s lap, still damp with slick but not enough to be bothersome.

Harry hummed his agreement. “Ruining it for everyone else too…”

“In the morning, let’s ruin it some more,” Louis suggested.

Harry snorted a laugh, prompting Louis to dig his thumb into his left dimple. He was obsessed with Harry's dimples. One day Harry was going to get him to admit it.

“That reminds me of a song. You Ruin Me by the Veronicas,” Harry murmured randomly, fingers tracing circles on Louis’ hips.

“Is it your favourite song?”

Harry shook his head. “I have too many to just pick one,” he said quietly. “But, you know…” he paused.

“What?” Louis prompted him, beginning to smile.

Harry sighed. “I think all of my favourite songs were written about you.”

Louis’ fingers stilled where they were tracing the soft lines of Harry's abs. He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to roll his eyes or curl up against Harry’s chest.

“You know I love it when you get poetic.” He pushed his hands through Harry's curls and leaned in—first to brush a kiss over Harry's temple. Then to press his lips firmly against the centre of Harry's forehead. His mouth moved to the corner of his eye, trailing over his eyelid to the bridge of nose. He deposited small kisses all over Harry's face until he came to his mouth. His arms came around Harry's neck, bodies crushed together, and he kissed him firmly.

When he pulled back, for a second, there was that look in his eyes again, awestruck and scared.

They were quiet for a moment, one of those pregnant pauses they were growing too accustomed to. And then Louis slipped off Harry’s lap, returned to the spot beside him and set his gaze on the ceiling.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Niall and Zayn,” Harry said, turning to face him.

Louis shook his head. “I kind of already knew. Not about the kiss. But…” He chewed on his fingernail. “They weren’t talking for most of February, so I figured something happened.”

"Niall likes him, you know?" Harry murmured quietly, spreading his hand out over Louis’ tummy, warm skin rising and falling beneath his palm. "Do you think Zayn actually likes him back?"

“I know he does. I talked to him recently. I think not having Niall around forced him to open up to me,” he said with a roll of his eyes and a pout to his mouth. “He didn’t tell me about the kiss. He just said…that he liked him. He said that it felt wrong to think about anyone else that way but he did.”

“And what did you say?”

“I didn’t know _what_ to say. He caught me off guard. So I just- I told him that it was okay to feel whatever it was he felt. That there’s no right or wrong with feelings. It just is.”

In most cases, that was true.

For no reason at all, Harry poked Louis in his bellybutton. If he could touch his favourite person any time he wanted, he would. Louis snorted and curled away to protect himself. “Fuck, _stop_.”

“Everybody likes to be tickled, Lou,” Harry said, blowing a surprise raspberry on his stomach, shifting over top his body.

Louis couldn’t resist laughing but he bucked his hips up to push him away. Harry flattened his hand out on his stomach and pushed him back down.

“Are you getting _rough_ with me?” Louis raised both brows, lips curving.

Harry tossed his curls away from his eyes, just to look at him, and smiled cherubically. Before he could answer, Louis’ scent hit the air much stronger.

Harry pinned him with a look. “Seriously?”

“Move away from my dick if you don’t want me reacting to you,” Louis sassed.

Harry nipped gently at Louis’ tummy. “Who said I didn’t want that?”

“Harry,” Louis groaned, pushing his hips up again for wholly different reasons. Harry pushed him back into the mattress. Louis’ scent spiked once more.

“Think we could go three times in a row?” he asked breathlessly.

Harry hung his head, eyes slipping closed. He sighed and rolled away from Louis’ body. “I _can’t_ ,” he said, nonsensically frustrated. “I really can’t. I’m sorry. But it just- It gets harder each time. To stop.”

Louis kept his gaze on the ceiling. His scent was still strong in the air. And he was wet, Harry knew that for sure. But the fire in their veins had been doused and each remaining ember was slowly but surely flickering out.

“I’m sorry…” Louis murmured after a while.

Harry sighed again, shaking his head. “Stop apologizing.”

“You deserve better, you know?”

Harry turned his head so fast his vision blurred. “Wait. What?”

“Someone who’ll go all the way with you.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth, gasping for a response. Louis crossed his arms over his chest, turning his head away. “ _Louis_ ,” Harry breathed. “What are you _talking_ about? I have you. That’s all I need.” Harry could deal with Louis’ pessimism about mating. He could deal with having to figure out what that meant for their future.

But somehow he couldn’t deal with this. With the idea that there was someone out there who was in any way better for him than Louis.

It was laughable. But if he actually laughed, Louis might leave him and sleep on the couch.

Harry sat up and looked down at him. “When are you going to get that you’re it for me? You’ve always been it. You ask me if I’ve ever fucked anyone else. If I’ve ever kissed anyone else. And the answer is always no. Since I was 14. Since I met you, it’s always been you.”

Louis’ Adam’s apple bobbed. His cheeks were bright with colour. His eyes drifted away from the ceiling and landed on Harry. “I knew that. I was just testing you…”

Harry shook his head. “You’re so frustrating.”

“Yeah but you love it.”

“I do…” Harry settled back into the bed and pulled him closer. Louis rested his head against his shoulder. “I love everything about you.”

They were quiet under the weight of those words. Louis was the first to pull away, just to press a kiss to Harry’s mouth.

They would pretend it didn’t mean as much as it did. Which was fine for now.

Harry knew he was playing a dangerous game, waiting for the perfect moment. In reality when you loved someone you didn't wait for tomorrow to let them know. Not when tomorrow could never come.

“Hey,” he mumbled sleepily. Louis lifted his head. "Do you think if Zayn weren't mated to Liam, he'd give Niall a shot?"

Louis studied him. "Do you want him to give Niall a shot?"

"No, that’s not why- I want Niall to be happy, yeah. And Zayn, I think, makes him happy. But I don't think it's right to ruin something that isn't over."

"You’re right," Louis said, settling his head back down. He rubbed his thumb idly over Harry's dimple. So obsessed. "I think...” he began thoughtfully, “Zayn might like Niall. But- he's in love with Liam. Even if they weren't mated, that wouldn't change. I want Niall to be happy too. But he wouldn't be with Zayn. He’ll always belong to Liam. And Liam will always belong to him. Just how it is."

Harry felt heavy with thoughts, not just of Louis, but of Niall and Zayn, and Liam too. Everything felt out of place. He and Louis shared a small smile and when they leaned forward to kiss, they did so with the intention of dispelling the sadness from each other's faces.

"Love is complicated and troublesome," Louis said quietly, when they pulled apart and his head had returned to Harry’s chest.

Harry held him close and again he considered just saying the words he’d been avoiding since he was 14. But if ever there was a bad time, this was probably it.

 _Next time_ , he thought, not understanding then that time was a cunning creature that thrived on missed opportunities and rarely issued second chances.

+

**21 March 2018**

Harry slipped the hardcover book back into its place, checking the Dewey decimal number on the spine once more to ensure it was sorted correctly. He reached for his next book and paused.

Cory leaned against the shelf right beside him, a warm smile on his face. “Hi.”

Harry glanced around in the event that he wasn’t actually being spoken to. It happened. Or at least it used to.

"Hey," he settled on saying.

Cory adjusted his glasses. A nervous habit, it seemed. Not out of necessity.

He drummed his fingers on the metal shelves. "So how've you been?"

Harry raised his brows, already confused and growing curious. "Um. Good. You?"

"Good, yeah. I feel like we haven't talked in forever."

Okay? They hardly ever talked in the first place. Harry turned to face him fully, brows furrowed. It was safe to consider him officially curious.

"I said hi to you at Stan's party, didn't I?" he said.

Cory rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but that's not what I mean. I mean like we did at the last party awhile back. Around Christmas, remember?"

"Right...” Harry said, glancing at the other book in his hand. “Well. Here we are.”

"Here we are." Cory smiled, his cheeks going pinkish for reasons Harry didn’t understand. Cory looked down at his shoes. "So how are things with you and Louis?"

"Uh, they’re great," Harry said, trying to control the goofiness of his smile. It was hard whenever anyone mentioned Louis. He wanted to elaborate but he thought it might be cruel if Cory really did have a crush on him like Louis swore.

"Yeah. That's what everyone's been saying," Cory said. "Congratulations."

For mating Louis? That had to be it. Harry felt bad lying outright so he said nothing.

"Anyway. I actually wanted to ask you about Biology,” Cory murmured. “I heard you helped Louis ace his exam recently. He kept talking about it to Stan. So. I was wondering if you could help me with a few questions?”

Harry slipped the book in his hand back into the shelf. “I’d be happy to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a laugh. “We could meet here sometime next week.”

Cory’s brows creased. “Next week?”

“Yeah…” Harry hesitated. How was he meant to explain that he was expecting a rut? It was a natural occurrence, not a well-kept secret. But it seemed like a distasteful thing to disclose, especially to an omega. “I just might miss school for a bit this week is all.”

Cory looked at him. He was a smart kid obviously because understanding dawned on his face soon after. “Oh,” he said. He started turning pink and blotchy, running his thumb over the edge of the shelf beside him. “So, Louis too then?”

Harry kept getting gob smacked by every turn of this conversation. “Um. No…”

Cory frowned. “He leaves you to deal with ruts on your own?” His voice dropped to a hush to add, “Not that it's any of my business…”

Harry held his gaze for a moment. “It's not as awful as it sounds. Lots of alphas do it. It's what we do when we hit puberty.”

“Yeah. But you're mated.”

Harry shook his head. “We aren’t actually.” When he said it, it felt like he had betrayed Louis somehow. It had been their little secret for a few days but later this week when Harry missed school to rut and Louis was still in attendance, he figured everyone would start to figure it out. Anyway, it was just Cory.

Cory looked at him, his gaze almost unnervingly steady. His lips twitched and when he smiled, he hid it by looking again at the tops of his ratty Converse. “That’s good to know.”

Harry wasn't sure how he'd ever missed Cory being an omega before now. Given how small he was. More petite than Louis, though that might have been because he was younger too. And he had a distinctive smell. Natural but fragrant the way it was for most omegas.

But more importantly, omegas were competitive by nature in the same way alphas were. They were territorial and aggressive when necessary.

And even if it took Cory a while to show it, sooner or later—or right now, really—he would.

Harry fell quiet, hoping the conversation would come to a timely end, rather than prompt Cory to confess his feelings or something. Harry realized he’d have to turn the lad down eventually, now or later. But for right, he would dodge if he could.

“Thanks again for your help,” Cory said. “I guess we’ll meet next week.”

It didn’t seem like a good idea now, given the circumstances. If Harry hadn’t already agreed, he might have said no. But Louis would most likely tag along if he told him. And the worst possible scenario was that Louis would make the kid cry.

Harry hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

He and Cory exchanged another smile. Harry did his best to keep his as neutral as possible. Cory still seemed to blush a deeper pink before he strolled away. And when he glanced back at him before turning the corner, Harry wondered what kind of shit he’d just landed himself in.

+

“So how are you feeling tonight?”

Harry turned over to watch the rain trickle down his window, letting his phone rest freely on his ear. His skin felt warmer than usual. The blood in his veins thrummed a little faster too. “I’m fine for now,” he said. “Probably won’t make it to school tomorrow though.”

“Do you want me to come over?” Louis asked. “I can make you soup since your mum is still away.”

Harry groaned. “Not funny, Lou.”

Louis laughed anyway. “Seriously. I could come over just for a bit. I’d leave before anything happened.”

Harry shook his head even if Louis couldn’t see him. “You would jumpstart things.” Just the thought of Louis being here might have been enough.

“Well now I feel sort of powerful,” Louis said, still laughing. At Harry’s misery. Some boyfriend he was.

A chorus of high-pitched screams sounded on Louis’ end. His bed creaked and a moment later, his door closed with a soft thud. The bed springs creaked again. “Sorry,” Louis said. “I think my sisters are trying to murder each other.”

“And you closed your door to them?” Harry gasped. “Brother of the year.”

“Oh, shut up. There’s no way you would understand my struggle. Gemma is like your best friend.”

Harry laughed quietly. “Point made.”

There was a beat of silence. “So…” Louis said. Harry waited. “If I asked you- if I wanted to come over tonight or tomorrow, would you let me?”

Harry’s brows creased. He reached for his remote and muted the volume of his TV. He only realized it was playing because Louis’ voice dropped to a whisper near the end of his sentence. “What?”

Louis sighed. “If I asked you to come over, knowing what would happen if I did, would you let me? If I wanted to do it, would you still?” he said. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being confusing. It’s just a question.”

It took Harry a moment to understand. He was tired and approaching a rut which sometimes made his brain operate like molasses.

“Yes,” Harry said, once he got it. “Of course I would.”

Louis was quiet for a long time. Everything stilled for Harry while he waited to hear his voice again, even the pitter patter of the rain outside. “I think about it, you know? Especially lately. I don’t know why but I do,” he said.

Harry didn’t respond. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Louis added softly, “I think about you all the time. It’s like I can’t stop.”

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. “Me neither, Lou.”

“And I _always_ miss you when we aren’t together. Even if it’s just at the end of the day, and I know I’ll see you the next morning.”

“Even if it’s just between classes,” Harry added.

Louis sighed. “Yeah, we’re kind of pathetic.”

“Only a little,” Harry said. “But at least we’re pathetic together.”

They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sounds of the rain together. And then Louis said, in his softest voice yet, “Just be patient with me…”

Harry shut his eyes again, his head resting heavy on his pillow. He almost thought he was dreaming. He felt so inflated with hope, he wondered if he could go outside and take flight. “You don’t even have to ask.”

He thought he could hear Louis smile. Harry hoped he was at least, hoped it wasn’t just him.

“I have to go…” Louis said a second later. “Mum’s home.”

Harry didn’t want to let him go when Louis was in a mood for confessions. But they said goodnight and immediately after, Louis sent him a text.

 **5:38 pm:** _I’ll miss you tomorrow.. x_

Harry made a noise like a whine that he was glad no one else would ever witness. If it were possible for him to fall any further in love with Louis, it would have happened just then.

He shuffled out of his room and down to the kitchen, flicking on lights along the way. It had grown dark while he was on the phone with Louis. His dad still wasn’t home and probably wouldn’t be for hours. And his mum was still in London, though she was due back in a day.

It was good though. He liked to be alone when things got started. Hidden in his tree house usually but not when it was frigid and wet outside.

He poured himself a glass of water and chugged it. It eased the warmth beneath his skin instantly. As he was pouring himself another glass, the doorbell rang.

It could be that his father forgot his keys or Mrs Knightley’s cat got away again. But he was still thinking of Louis. And there was a second of senseless hope that had him thinking Louis had chosen to come over anyway. Maybe he was ready now…

He hurried to the door and pulled it open, heart thumping, and-

“Cory,” Harry said, just as plainly. He felt a bit like a dick for sounding so disappointed.

Cory didn’t seem to notice. He waved. “Hi.”

Harry just stared at him. It felt like minutes of silence passed with Harry just staring at him. “Hi,” he eventually said.

Rainwater clung to Cory’s clothes and dampened his red hair to a brown. His glasses were splattered with water and mud on one corner. Harry couldn’t imagine how that might have happened.

“How did you get here?” Harry asked.

“Stan left his skateboard at my house,” Cory explained, holding up the skateboard in his hands.

Harry was quiet again. Even when Cory was drenched in water, Harry could smell him, his senses heightened near the outset of his rut.

“I’m sorry if you’re busy,” Cory said. “There’s this biology quiz tomorrow. Nothing serious. But I was on my way to Tesco just now. And I thought I could stop here… I just have a few quick questions.”

“Now’s really not a good time at all,” Harry said.

“Oh,” Cory blinked. He appeared to inhale, maybe to catch Harry’s scent. And he must have. Because his face went red. “You were in school today so I thought-- I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have come if I knew…”

The storm was kicking up outside. Harry didn’t even think Cory would be able to make it back without running his skateboard into a bush or something. This was, after all, the same boy who thought it smart to tuck a stray cat into his clothing.

“How many questions do you have?” he asked.

“Only like five, I think,” Cory said. “I would’ve called but I don’t have your number. It’ll only take 15 minutes or so, I’m sure. Honestly, any time at all would really help. We’re on the characteristics of different cells right now and they all just seem the same to me. And I have no idea what I’m doing. I failed my last quiz and my mum will honestly have a meltdown if I fail another and I’ve asked my classmates but I’m not sure anyone understands. _Please_? You’re honestly the only person left to ask.”

Harry stood there, gripping the door handle like it might pour answers into his weary brain. He didn’t even think he had the mental wherewithal to sustain a conversation, much less utilize intellect. But alas, Cory was staring at him imploringly, looking like his entire life depended on this one moment. And the rain was pouring harder than a second ago.

Harry stepped away from the door. “Only for fifteen minutes then…”

“Thank you so much,” Cory stepped inside, leaving the skateboard out on the porch. He removed his rain jacket and hung it on the hook by the door.

Louis obviously smelled better to Harry. Just as everything about Louis was better than everything about anyone else ever.

But Cory smelled good too. And it worried Harry that he couldn’t ignore the scent, even though he tried. He could stand it for fifteen minutes. He knew the differences between prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells by heart. It might not even take that long. Perhaps he could do it in ten.

They sat at the kitchen table where it was safe, Harry a good distance away, just close enough to read from Cory’s notebook.

“It’s easy if you think about the cells as people…” he was saying. “Prokaryotes are kind of like the introverts. Their housing is smaller and they’re not the best hosts. They’ve got no nucleus, no mitochondria, and that’s why they stick to bacteria and such. As opposed to animals and plants. They don’t have a lot of friends, see?”

Cory breathed a quiet laugh, his eyes flickering to Harry. “Not how Ms Dunford teaches it.”

“Yeah because she’s not hip,” Harry said. He should stop trying to be funny. He liked making people laugh when he could. But maybe it wasn’t best to do so with Cory.

“It helps to think of them that way,” Cory said. “That’s clever.”

Harry smiled. “Good. It even helps if you draw them as people. Like, here, let me see your notebook.”

Cory pushed it closer to him and Harry lifted his pencil. He concentrated on drawing the slim body of a prokaryote and fashioning the cell with some glasses. They descended into a momentary silence while he worked, sketching and erasing. He wasn’t the best drawer but he was sure Cory would get the point.

“I like you.”

His pencil stilled. He looked up from the notebook.

Cory held his gaze. “I know you have Louis… But I’ve had a crush on you since you gave me that pencil. I know I should have said something. When you were single, I should have said something. But I just- ”

“Cory…” Harry began, setting his pencil down.

“I think you deserve better,” Cory said. “I don’t hate Louis. He’s Stan’s best friend. I know he’s a good person, I do. He has to be if you like him. But you deserve someone who wants you just as much as you want them. Someone you can bond with like you’re meant to.”

Harry sat back in his chair. Totally, completely stunned by this kid’s boldness.

“I know I’m younger than you and you might not take me seriously. But I know what you need…”

“It’s not just about that,” Harry finally managed to say. “It’s not about…knotting or whatever. It’s- you have to actually care for the person too.”

“You’re the only alpha who would say that. I like that about you…” Cory murmured. “But you’re still an alpha. And you’re going to rut soon, aren’t you? Where’s Louis going to be when that happens?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Harry said. “That’s not what I’m after.”

“You say that now but what about later? Harry…” Cory exhaled, his chest rising and falling. “You could have me if you wanted. Honestly. You could do it now and I would- I’d be yours.”

Two things happened in that moment, one after the other like dominoes set up for destruction. Cory’s scent kicked up, strong and getting stronger as if by the force of his will. And then Harry teetered and fell into his rut.

He pushed his chair back fast, the wooden feet screeching on the floorboards, and got to his feet. “You have to leave.”

“It’s okay,” Cory said. “You can have more than one omega, Harry. It’s okay.”

“Cory,” Harry shut his eyes. “Leave. Please leave.”

Cory stood up and came closer to him. And _fuck_. Harry had fucked up so bad. If every mistake in his life were vying for first place, this right now would take the trophy home.

Cory could have gotten his number from Stan. And Cory could have emailed him his fucking questions. Or he could have asked him during school since clearly he’d seen him at least once, right?

But he hadn’t done that because maybe there was a chance he could come here and convince Harry to take him, especially with an oncoming rut bending things in his favour. He must have known that. He was a smart kid even if he sucked at biology.

It was Harry against Cory. And Harry against himself. Two against one. Figure that.

Cory touched him. He flattened his palms on Harry’s abs. And Harry gripped his shoulders to hold him back. He couldn’t even see straight.

“Listen to me,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut, fingers digging into Cory’s shoulders. “Just—”

He wanted so much. Felt starved for it all. He wanted Louis. And he wanted to fuck. He wanted to breed. He wanted the heat of another body against his own and around his cock.

He’d never hated being an alpha more than he did in this moment. The scent of slick was sharp and tangy in the air and choked him up. It left him feeling helpless, feeling mad and famished. And Cory was beautiful with eager blue eyes and freckles and he meant every word, would present himself right here and now if Harry wanted.

But he didn’t. The alpha maybe, but not Harry. No, Harry had only ever wanted one person his whole life.

“I love Louis,” he exhaled. “He’s my favourite person. He’s the best person. I’d rather die than hurt him.”

Cory stilled, big eyes stuck on Harry as he spoke. Harry didn’t even know how he was speaking. His skin felt like it was burning. He was so hard by now it hurt.

“I love him so much,” Harry said again, hoping that it might be strong enough to quell the carnal need beneath his skin. He said it like a prayer. “I love him. I’m never going to stop loving him- And I’m never going to love anyone else. Please don’t do this. Please leave. You have to leave.”

Cory hovered there for one second longer, his eyes wide and unblinking. “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t mean- I didn’t know—”

“Go now,” Harry gritted out, pushing him away, shutting his eyes and holding his breath so he wouldn’t smell him any further. He dug his fingernails into his palm as hard as he could and bit down on his lip because the pain might keep him distracted.

He didn’t see Cory leave or hear him even, couldn’t register much beyond the blood pumping loud in his ears or the black behind his eyelids. He sank to the kitchen floor, pushed his hand beneath the waistband of his shorts, and got to work.

+

**24 March 2018**

By noon on Saturday, Harry was sufficiently concerned.

Because Louis wasn’t responding to him and he always responded within an hour even when he was busy.

Harry was concerned to the point of pacing his bedroom, to the point of frenzy that sent him into the final round of his rut.

The fever broke by nightfall. Harry waited until he was sure the show was over before he rang Louis’ phone. It went to voicemail. He sent him another message.

 **7:06 pm:** You’re scaring me. Are you safe?

He felt like a deranged alpha or something. He was so close to getting down on all fours and sniffing the ground for Louis’ scent, or more logically, going to Louis’ house. They’d agreed not to meet on Saturday, unsure about whether Harry’s body would play nice by then.

But Harry was past the point of reasoning with himself. Or thinking clearly. It was late enough that Jay might have already gone to sleep. And Harry had this six-page paper he really wanted to start on before tomorrow. And there were a lot of other reasons why he should stay home and try to calm the fuck down.

He found himself tugging on his shoes and slipping out the door, shutting it softly because his dad was in his office just down the hall.

He took his bike and pedalled hard, tossed it to the grass when he was right in front of Louis’ house. He whipped out his phone, fingers flying furiously over the screen.

 **11:42 pm:** I'm outside. I just need to see that you're alright.

His phone rang two minutes later. He answered immediately.

“Why are you outside?” was how Louis greeted him.

“I just- I haven’t seen or heard from you,” Harry said, ignoring the way his heart clenched at the lack of warmth in Louis’ tone. “Could I see you for just a second?”

"I'm fine," Louis said.

He was definitely upset. "Please, Lou?"

Louis was quiet for so long Harry thought he’d hung up. "Wait there." And then he actually hung up.

Harry stood there, staring at the front door, waiting for it to open, waiting for anything. He was beginning to think Louis wouldn’t come, was about to call back when he spotted him around the side of the house, wearing a black hoodie and plaid pyjama bottoms.

Harry closed the distance between them with as little strides as possible, eyes running over Louis' body, taking him in. "Are you okay?" he said a little breathlessly, taking Louis’ face in his hands, sniffing at the space around his body.

He was frantic with the need to be sure Louis was alright. That was the only thing he ever needed, only thing he cared to know.

Because if Louis was bleeding, Harry would lick his wounds. And if Louis was sad, Harry would hold him until the sadness somehow leaked into his own body. And always, _always_ Harry would be there to put Louis back together again if he could. No matter what…

"Stop, Harry, I'm fine," Louis pulled away.

And yeah, he did look fine. Just, everything else was wrong.

Harry clenched his hands into fists to keep them at his sides. He just wanted to touch him, to kiss him. Why weren’t they touching?

"You’re mad at me about something, right?” Harry said. “I'm sorry. Whatever it is, I’m sorry." He didn’t really care what it was. It didn’t matter. "Tell me what's wrong. And I’ll try to make it better," he said. He wasn't even thinking anymore just talking, trying to keep the panic at bay. Louis looked fine but everything was wrong: the look in his eyes, the tightness of his jaw, and the press of his lips. The more Harry took in, the more he panicked. "Louis…

"Come with me," Louis cut him off, turning and walking around to the back of the house, past the rose bushes Harry had helped Jay plant a month ago. The new moon meant that the stars were visible all over, and so beautiful Harry would have liked to lie on his back and watch them with Louis until they burned out. But he couldn’t stop looking at Louis. He was afraid if he did, Louis would be gone by the time he looked back.

There was a space between their bodies that wouldn't have been there a few days ago. Louis stood near the back door, face expressionless, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Did you fuck Cory Lucas?”

“No,” Harry said immediately. “No I swear.”

“But he was at your house. On Thursday, right?”

“Yes, but only for a few minutes,” Harry said.

“And you didn’t tell me. If nothing happened, you would have told me…”

“Louis. I didn’t tell you because I couldn’t. I tried to when we were on the phone but— Nothing happened, I swear to you.”

He’d tried but never got the chance. On the phone that day, Louis stretched and made this achy, moaning kind of sound that successfully tossed Harry into his next wave. And Harry hung up on him and texted much later to apologize.

He’d never gotten a response to that message. Or the one he sent the morning after. Now he completely understood why.

Louis dragged his hands down his face. “Fuck. Harry, I don’t believe you. How fucked up is that? You’re- you’re supposed to be my partner or some shit, and I don’t even believe you. I don’t-”

Harry wished he’d brought his inhaler with him. “I'm sorry,” he said, “For everything. I should have told you as soon as I could. He came over because he had biology questions. And- I think he probably came over because he knew I might be a bit vulnerable too."

Louis narrowed his eyes. “How did he know that?”

Mentally, Harry was jabbing the rewind button on the remote control to his life, well aware that there were no batteries and life didn’t fucking work that way. He’d dug himself a hole and was only digging further. He shut his eyes and said quietly, “Because I told him.”

Louis breathed a short, bitter laugh, so unlike his usual buoyant laughter. “You told him you weren’t with me,” his voice broke off, sharp in the night like ice. His fingernails dug into his arms. “We said we wouldn’t tell and you did it anyway. And of all people, to tell him…”

Louis’ eyes shone a bit brighter in the moonlight. “I actually thought—for a minute, I was actually considering it, you know? Because it’s you. You’re convincing. But you’re still an alpha, right? I should have known better.”

“You can’t be serious…” Harry didn’t know what else to say. This was such a bad joke. It had to be. “Tell me you’re not serious.”

“My mum warned me…She was drunk once. When I was six years old, she was so drunk. And just a fucking mess. And you know what she said? I’ll never forget it. She said ‘alphas fuck and knot and breed, and then they leave. Every time. Just like your dad.’ And maybe she was right.”

“I’m not your dad, Louis.”

“I don’t fucking know that,” Louis shot back.

Harry’s brows lifted. And Louis stared back at him. For a minute, they were just frozen there in that silence. Louis dropped his gaze first. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I think maybe you did,” Harry’s voice was small but firm. Neither of them spoke for a long time. Harry cut the silence first, “I think you know nothing happened with Cory. But this isn’t really about him at all…”

Louis rolled his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re scared,” Harry said. “Because you started to consider it like you said. And then you heard whatever it is you heard and you got scared.”

Louis scoffed. He turned away for a second, only to turn back. “Do you blame me? My dad made promises too. And for a while things were good. And then there were others. And then he was gone,” he said. “That’s how it happens. If you think I’m just going to let someone do that to me, you’re wrong. I’m not my mum. I’m not Zayn. You can get your knot wet elsewhere.”

It might not have done much for Louis to physically hit him. But he got him good with just his words. It felt like he had kicked him in the stomach. Or like he had punched a hole through Harry’s chest.

Harry took long minutes before he could speak.

“How’s it possible that even now you don’t know I love you?”

It didn’t even feel like he said it aloud. It was more just the product of internal havoc. A question he directed more to the universe, than to Louis himself.

Louis sort of teetered backward like he’d been stunned. He looked like he wanted to cut and run, which would be effective given how fast he was. Instead he gave a small shake of his head. He opened his mouth to speak and snapped it shut.

This wasn’t how Harry pictured this going at all. He was planning to do something cheesy like wait until the weather was warm and invite Louis into the tree house for tea and biscuits. And then he was going to look him in the eyes and just say it.

He had to laugh at himself. What an idiot, he’d been.

“How could you not know that?” Harry said. “I don’t give a shit about knots or whatever the fuck else. I don’t need biology to tell me I’m with you. I already am.”

Louis wasn’t looking at him anymore. But he spoke, “You’re saying that now but you’re an alpha, Harry. You’ll want to have kids someday. You’ll want all that stuff,” he said. He dragged his sleeve over his eyes. “And I won’t be the one to give it to you. That’s just—Maybe you’re just better off with someone who will.”

Harry felt his eyes burn. His throat ached the way it did before he cried. He didn’t want to cry in front of Louis though. He felt as though he’d already given away too much. “I’m going to go,” he said, his voice rough.

Louis seemed to panic. He took a step forward as if to reach for him. “Harry, please—”

“Please what? I don’t know what you want me to do. And you know I’d do anything for you, Louis. Anything at all. But I don’t even know what you want me to do.”

He was wrong. He’d been fooling himself. He didn’t actually know how to put Louis back together. As much as it killed him to see Louis fall apart, he didn’t even know where to begin.

“I just can’t,” Louis said. “I really just can’t do it.”

Harry nodded and felt the last piece of his heart fracture. He swiped a tear quickly with his sleeve. “Then don’t. I’ve never asked you to do something you didn’t want to do. I won’t start now.”

+

**25 March 2018**

It must have been a very bad dream.

In the morning, the first thing Harry thought to do when he opened his eyes was roll over and send Louis a message. Because sometimes on Sunday mornings, he stopped by for Jay’s French toast.

He reached for his phone and found there was already a message waiting for him, and for a moment, his sleepy eyes couldn’t make sense of the words.

 **4:24 am:** _I think maybe we should take a break for a bit._

+

Word spread as it was accustomed doing.

Not that Harry had told anyone. And he didn’t think Louis had either. But on Monday, when he and Zayn sat together at a table across the cafeteria, it pretty much said everything anyone needed to know.

After that, the days unfolded and slipped away like dead petals from a rose.

At no point did it ever feel real. Harry kept thinking eventually Louis was going to climb through his window, followed close behind by cameramen and tell him he’d just been punked. It would be his worst prank yet, for sure.

The day after it happened he received a text from Wahliyah.

 **5:04 pm:** _Hi Harry. Louis gave me your number. I just finished the Hobbit. So good! Thanks again for recommending it. See you soon. xx_

On Tuesday, during practice, Zayn spoke to him too. They were refilling their water bottles and he said, “Hey. What did you get on your Calculus exam from last week?”

Harry could see Louis across the pitch, talking with Paul and Ian. “An A,” he answered.

“Wow,” Zayn murmured. He lifted his water bottle. “Yeah, I got a C. That shit was hard.”

“If you ever need help or anything, just let me know,” Harry told him.

“Sure,” Zayn said and turned away. “Thanks, Harry.”

It was almost like no one believed it was really happening either. Things functioned as usual. Their friends still spoke to one another. But at most, he and Louis made eye contact and for a few fleeting seconds Louis would hold Harry’s gaze before he was looking at the floor or the ceiling or the back of Zayn’s head.

“He said a break, Haz,” Niall reminded him daily. “Time to cool off and clear his head, you know?”

Harry did not know. He didn’t see the point. When you were in love with someone, the last thing you really wanted was time apart from them.

The worst part was that by Day 10 Harry started to _accept_ it. He stopped blaming himself or beating himself up about not having fixed things by now. He started to just feel angry. Because maybe Louis was right. Maybe Harry did need someone else, someone who wasn’t afraid to be with him, who actually trusted him.

And this was bound to happen all along. They couldn’t even talk about university and graduation without Louis going all fidgety. And Harry did want to have kids some day. Lots of them. So maybe…yeah, this was for the best.

Then on Day 11…Louis said hi to him. They were on the pitch and Harry watched Louis’ ball roll across the grass and thud against the toe of his cleats. And then Louis was right there, bending down to scoop it up.

Their eyes met again. Louis’ lips twitched. “Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi,” Harry replied, almost in song. _Please come back. I love you._

Louis jogged away, leaving Harry to reconsider every thought of forgetting and moving on. It wasn’t possible. It was never going to be possible.

That day was also when Harry found the note. He almost didn’t see it there on the floor between his shoes. But he stooped down to pick his Calculus textbook up from the bottom of his locker and the triple-folded block of paper was sitting there waiting for him.

Harry hoped desperately that it was from Louis. But like some twisted sort of déjà vu, it turned out to be from Cory and read this:

_I’m sorry about you and Louis._

_When I gave Stan’s skateboard back to him, I told him I’d been at yours. It was stupid and I didn’t think he’d tell Louis. But I understand why he did. I wanted to apologize to you in person but I know that’s probably not a good idea._

_I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry to you and Louis both._

He included a frowny face at the end that Harry didn’t quite see the need for. If it was meant to be endearing, it missed the mark.

So Cory was sad. And Harry was sad. And maybe Louis was sad. But what good did that do anyone?

Day 13, Gemma called to see how he was doing. And he made it through most of their conversation in a relatively calm state, even when he told her about Louis. He was trying to be strong the way he thought an alpha was supposed to be.

Then Gemma said to him, “You’re an alpha, Harry. Not a superhero.”

And he tucked his face into the bend of his elbow and let himself cry. It wasn’t the words themselves that got him. It was the fact that he could picture Louis saying something like that too.

+

**9 April 2018**

Two weeks had passed by the time Harry realized he was losing his mind. He couldn’t be around people anymore because everyone looked at him lately like a puppy with broken legs and Harry was always ten seconds away from ripping off his clothes and running into the forest and taking up a life there among the birds and the deer.

Anyway…

There was a not so pleasant surprise waiting for him when he arrived at his spot beneath the bleachers. He shouldn’t have been there in the first place on account of all the mental images that violently attacked him when he arrived. But call it masochism or foolish hope, Harry had been going to that spot ever since Day 1 of the end.

The surprise was Liam Payne.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked straight away.

Liam placed his soda can on the ground and flattened it with his foot. “I figured since you and Louis broke up, you wouldn’t be making much use of this spot anymore.”

Harry didn’t even have any fight left to respond. He started to turn away.

“I was just kidding,” Liam said quickly.

“Yeah but you aren’t funny, Liam. That’s the problem,” Harry explained.

Liam fell quiet. An awkward beat passed. “I came ‘cause I thought you’d be here.”

Harry still had half a mind to leave. Liam was the last person he felt like speaking to and Harry had been fighting tears since this morning when Louis said hi to him at the door of Ms. Caple’s class.

Harry ducked beneath the metal beams anyway and sat down a moderate distance from Liam, folding his knees up to his chest.

Liam held his cigarette out to him.

Harry shook his head. “When did you start smoking?”

“When I met Zayn,” Liam said, tucking his cigarette back between his lips. He lifted a silver flask from his rucksack and held this out to him too.

Harry eyed the flask for a whole minute before he took it, uncapped it, and took a quick swig. It burned going down his throat. He coughed and handed it back, passing his sleeve over his lips. “Is that battery acid?”

“You’re so dramatic. It’s whiskey.”

“Tastes like battery acid,” Harry said.

Liam shrugged. “So how did you fuck up with Louis?”

“How did you fuck up with Zayn?” Harry answered. And when Liam’s face fell, he added, “See how that feels?”

Liam looked away. And then so did Harry. They sat there in silence while Harry pulled out his notebook and started working again on the poem he’d been writing for Louis entitled _Please Come Back To Me_.

“I’ve thought about what you said,” Liam mumbled. “And you were right.”

Harry looked at him. “Which part?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “All of it, I guess.”

“Hm,” Harry hummed, looking away. Of course he was right. Hearing Liam say that should have felt like some life victory. Harry still just felt like shit.

“I probably can’t get rid of him on my own,” Liam said. “Not without killing him or something.”

Harry’s gaze snapped back to him. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t actually kill him. But I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. Could slip something in his beer, you know? It’d be easy.”

“You’re not going to kill your dad, Liam.”

Liam tossed his cig to the ground and outed it with his heel. “You’ve got a better idea then?”

“Even if I didn’t, you’re not going to kill your dad,” Harry repeated.

“It’s a joke. Jesus,” Liam said. “Do you have ideas or what?”

Harry hesitated for a moment. In his head, he carded through the last few years of his life. All the shit this boy had put him through. He thought of bruised knuckles from fights he hadn’t wanted to be in. And the tears each time he lost.

And while that should be reason enough to get up and forget this whole thing, out there, beyond the bleachers, was Louis, the first and the last boy to break Harry’s heart.

So no it didn’t make sense. But lately nothing did. He stayed put.

“No, not really,” he said honestly. “But I guess we could figure something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just a slave to the story in my head. Please don't hate me.
> 
> If it's any consolation, I posted a deleted scene from this chapter to tumblr. It includes jealous Harry and a blowie. I feel like I'm attempting to appease broken hearts with a shitty plate of cookies. But here... [Have some cookies.](http://stylinsoncity.tumblr.com/post/129708527341/falling-into-you-deleted-scene)
> 
> Much love! (Seriously, I love you all.) x


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LP Part 2

**12 April 2018**

Harry looked like shit. His uniform was neatly pressed. His hair looked regularly washed. But there was something haggard about his face. He was a flickering flame, always two seconds from burning out or crying or punching his fist through a wall.

Whatever newfound strength he’d acquired in recent months remained, at least. Sometimes he looked at Liam like he was an idiot and Liam felt like one. And it was undeniable that he hated Liam’s guts (Liam would hate his own guts if he were Harry) but there Harry was, helping Liam anyway. And surely that took strength. To help someone you hated.

They weren’t getting anywhere with their plan of attack. So far Liam just kept feeling like an idiot and Harry just kept looking at him like it was true. That day, they were in the library, deep in desperate research, like “ways to get rid of your crazy father.” So far, they’d gotten nowhere.

As usual, Liam’s mind wandered.

“So seriously, mate,” he said. He could have thought his next words through a bit longer. But he’d never had much in way of a filter. “What happened between you and Louis?”

Harry’s hands stilled on the keyboard. He looked at him.

Liam shrugged. “Just wondering why you’ve got a permanent thorn up your arse.”

Harry blinked. “I’ve been trying to figure the same out about you for years,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about him. Especially not with you.”

Liam rocked back on his chair’s feet and let them fall forward. He did it again. Over and over. Thud, thud, thud. Harry huffed. “You’re going to break your skull open.”

“Sorry, mum,” Liam said. He kept on rocking. He pursed his lips and started beat-boxing, then whistling, then somehow combining the two.

Harry groaned. “Please stop...”

“Did it have something to do with Cory?” Liam asked.

Harry dropped his forehead to the desk. “Why am I here?” he asked the universe.

“I’ve been trying to figure out the same since you offered to help,” Liam mimicked. He drummed his fingers on the side of his chair. “So, Cory? He apologized to Louis, you know? Like two days ago, I think? I don’t know what for. But I heard from some people that he was like crying. Made an arse of himself, I bet.”

Harry turned his head on the tabletop. “What part of ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ are you not getting?”

“I’ll tell you what happened with me and Zayn.”

“No you won’t,” Harry dismissed. “You’re just saying that to get me to talk because you’re nosy. And then you’ll leave.”

“Hand on my heart, swear on my mum, I’ll tell you if you tell me,” Liam said. He’d go first but he wasn't sure Harry would follow.

Harry eyed him suspiciously for a long time, so long Liam started to fidget. Harry’s gaze slid back to the computer screen. “I’m meant to believe that it’s about me supposedly cheating with Cory. But he knows. He should know—” Harry fell quiet. After a second, he started again. “I wouldn’t do that to him. But he knows that. It’s really about commitment. It’s about being an alpha and being an omega and a whole lot of other shit that doesn’t really matter. And I’m just so fucking sick of the whole thing. It scares him. And it just pisses me off. That’s all that happened. I scared him away.”

Liam snorted. “Well, he has to be a really big coward then.”

Harry glared at him. He reached down for his rucksack and stood. “Fuck this.”

“Wait. That was meant to be a good thing. I meant that you aren’t scary,” Liam said. “Jesus, I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Harry paused. “You should consider just not talking sometimes. You say everything in a bad way.”

Well, he had a point there. “You know who knows that better than anyone?” Liam said, lifting his brows. “Zayn.”

Harry just looked at him.

“Come on, mate. Sit down,” Liam said, patting the seat of his abandoned chair. “It’s my turn.”

Harry looked like he wanted to leave anyway, like he didn’t care anymore about Liam’s story or anything for that matter. But he must have seen it in Liam’s eyes — the need to tell someone. Anyone. Liam just needed someone to listen.

Harry sat back down and set his rucksack on the ground. He looked at Liam expectantly. So, Liam began.

+

**7 December 2017**

He kept thinking he was going to wake up one day and his dad would be gone again. He hardly slept in anticipation. After measly hours of tossing and turning, Liam would creep towards his mum’s room and hear the man snoring. Tomorrow, maybe, he’d think. Tomorrow, for sure.

The first day or so, George was on his best behavior. He sat down at the table one afternoon and asked Liam about school, about working around the neighborhood sometimes (he did odd jobs for the neighbors when he could), and about Zayn. He didn’t call him by name because he didn’t know Zayn’s name. He’d just said, “You have an omega now?” Because apparently he could smell Zayn all over him.

Liam answered his questions as curtly and quickly as he could, never giving too much detail, never sticking around for long. He didn’t have to tell him any more than the minimum. The old man wouldn’t be around for long. Liam believed that.

And then on Wednesday, he said: “Pick me up a six-pack when you’re on your way home, yeah?”

He’d been staring at the T.V. screen. Liam looked at his mum in the kitchen, sorting through the mail. She looked at him.

His dad turned his head after one beat of silence had turned to five. “Did you hear me?” he asked. And there it was finally, just like Liam had been expecting. That first glimmer of malice hidden behind the dull color of his irises.

His mum had looked away. Liam didn’t even blame her. “Yes,” Liam said. “I got it.”

+

**8 December 2017**

Zayn was approaching a heat, which had Liam anxious. Because it was one thing to spend a day or two with him when his dad was miles away from home. But now that he was back, leaving his mum alone with the man felt like a death sentence.

Liam hadn’t touched Zayn in days though. The quick kisses before and after school didn’t count. He couldn’t go over to Zayn’s because it meant time away from home, away from his mother.

And the distance was starting to take a toll on him. He was irritable and lonely but most of all, horny as fuck, and Zayn’s scent had been following him for the past few days, like it was stuck on his clothes and the fibers of his nose hairs. Seriously.

Zayn was already suspicious. Because Liam hadn’t brought him over in a while, and usually that was where he spent his heats. He was suspicious because lately, Liam was more detached than usual.

And because there was a bruise on the curve between Liam’s neck and shoulder where his father had clutched him a little too tightly last night.

“Just let me look at it,” Zayn said, pulling at his shirt.

Liam pushed his hand away. “Stop. It’s fine.”

“I can’t touch you now?” Zayn questioned, brows creased deeply.

“Of course you can,” Liam said quietly.

Zayn reached for his shirt again. “Then let me just see.”

“Zayn. Stop,” Liam said, pushing his hand away again.

Zayn set his hands in his lap and rolled his eyes, scooting back a little further on his bed. Liam exhaled through his nostrils like a bull, reaching for his own collar. He stretched it to the side, exposing the bruise. Zayn ran his eyes over it. His hand lifted to touch it gently.

“Does it hurt?”

Liam shook his head.

“Did you get in another fight with Ralph? Or was it that alpha from Princep?” Zayn asked. Because only another alpha could do this to him.

Liam shook his head again. “Neither. I don’t want to talk about it.”

By nature, Zayn wasn’t a forceful person. He was more likely to let things go when they got too troublesome than to pursue them to the end. He didn’t ask further questions. But he leaned in and kissed the spot, then again with the slightest bit of tongue. He pulled away, only to come back again and connect their mouths.

+

**9 December 2017**

The following day, Zayn arrived on Liam’s front step, clearly more determined than Liam gave him credit for.

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked. He’d only just walked him home.

“Hello to you too,” Zayn said. He lifted the box in his hand. “My sisters and I made biscuits yesterday. Forgot to bring them to you.” He lowered the box and tried to peek over Liam’s shoulder. “I can’t come in?”

“Now’s not a good time,” Liam said.

Zayn narrowed his eyes. “But you’re alone, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll give you a head rub and a blow job.” Zayn smiled, lifting his brows suggestively. “Can’t resist that, can you, Liam?”

Liam hung his head. He really couldn’t. “Just for a little bit,” he said, pushing the door open.

Zayn eased past him into the house. Liam took the box of biscuits from him and set them on the kitchen table. He reached down to wrap his arms around the backs of Zayn’s knees and hoisted him over his shoulder.

“I can fucking walk,” Zayn said.

Liam ignored him, trotting up the stairs. They were on a tight schedule.

“Smells different in here, by the way. Like another alpha,” Zayn noted.

Liam deposited him on the bed. He ignored the twinge of irritation at the thought of his own scent being overwhelmed by his father’s.

“Don't like being tossed around, mate,” Zayn grumbled. Liam kissed him to shut him up. Zayn pulled away, his eyes narrowed, hand on Liam’s chest. “Know what?”

“What?” Liam sighed.

“I think you're hiding something,” Zayn said plainly. “I _know_ you are. And that leaves you with two options. You can tell me. Or I can find out myself.”

“Who's the alpha here again?” Liam wondered.

“I don't give a fuck,” Zayn said, not for the first time. “I'll find out. You know I will.”

“There’s nothing to find out,” Liam said. He grabbed Zayn by the hip and turned him. “Change my mind. I think I’ll eat you out instead.”

“You're such a dick,” Zayn complained as he grew wet. It was instantaneous and guaranteed, offers for rimjobs got his omega wild. It threw him off focus. And Liam needed him not to focus right now. Because it was true: He would find out. If he had enough time, Zayn always found out.

“Don't lie to me, Liam,” Zayn said, voice gone soft while Liam pulled his waistband down to the backs of his knees. “I mean it.”

Liam leaned in, heart thudding a portentous rhythm in his chest and not even the smell of his omega could distract him from his lies, past or present or right now… “I’m not.”

And then he licked over his rim, let the taste of slick settle on his tongue like a drug, let it throw them both off focus.

+

**12 April 2018**

“That's more than enough detail,” Harry said. “Jesus.”

His face looked like a tomato. Liam had forgotten he was even there.

“You could have just said you fooled around,” Harry added.

“Sure but there's a difference between just fooling around and licking your omega’s arse. Fooling around could mean anything. But like actually tasting—it’s like a religious experience, mate.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Tell him so. That'll win him back for sure.”

“You know, something tells me you're only being a whiny prick about this ‘cause you've never done it with Louis,” he said.

Harry looked away, jaw clenched. “None of your business,” he sniffed. _Bingo_. “Just like what you do with Zayn is none of mine. Could we get back to the story? You lied to him. How’d he figure it out?”

Liam crossed his arms over his chest. “Who says I didn't decide to be honest with him?”

Harry snorted. “You're single. Obviously, it didn't go so smoothly.”

And of course, he was right.

+

**11 December 2017**

“Mum,” Liam called. He shut the front door and toed his shoes off. The sound of laughter trickled off in the kitchen and the smell of something savory drifted his way. But his senses were null for it all, except that other, more dominant scent — Zayn’s. Sure enough, his omega peeked out from around the kitchen corner, and smiled brightly as Liam grew closer.

“What are you doing here?” Liam asked for the second time that week. Stepping into the kitchen, he made stern eye contact with his mum. She should have known.

“You have an exam tomorrow. Came to help you study,” Zayn said. His eyes narrowed. “Or would you rather not?”

Liam looked at his mum again, practically glaring. She really should have known better. She mouthed the word “Sorry.”

“I should have told you, love,” she said to Zayn. “We’re actually expecting company.” Now her eyes flickered to Liam. “But he won’t be here for at least another hour. He’s having a drink outside town.”

That wasn’t good enough for Liam. An hour was too little time. Outside of town was too vague and too close. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a razor blade.

“Oh, well, I can leave,” Zayn said with a small smile. He wasn’t convinced. “It’s not a problem.”

“I’ll walk you home,” Liam replied. Like he’d done three hours ago after school. He should have skipped work today. They would have hung out at Zayn’s. He wouldn’t have needed to bring the pie.

Zayn peeled his eyes away from Liam’s face. He’d have a mouthful for him later, about all the lies Liam was so clearly keeping. He didn’t understand. But how could he when Liam wasn’t explaining?

“Thanks again for tea,” Zayn said to Liam’s mum.

“Of course. Tell your mum I said hello,” she answered.

“Be back soon,” Liam told his mum.

In a comic book world, he’d like to think that he and Zayn evade the worst possible scenario here, that they get their shoes and coats on in time, and make it out the door, and that Zayn ends up safe at home. He knew that things went awry even in the land of make believe. But at least, in a comic book world, the hero usually won in the end.

And this was one of those times where he wished the panels of his favourite comic would swallow him and Zayn whole. Because the doorknob up ahead was turning and then the front door was swinging open.

Liam couldn’t catch a fucking break.

He tugged Zayn behind him with a hand to his hip, but there was really nothing left to do and nowhere to go. His dad stepped into the house, shaking the cold from his shoulders.

“Why are you just standing there?” he asked Liam confusedly. His words, as usual, were slurred.

“Just heading out,” Liam said.

His mum stepped out from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she said.

“Good. I’m starved,” his dad replied. His nose twitched and his eyes landed on the two of them standing there again. Drunk as he was, it hadn’t taken him long. He tilted his head to the side and finally noticed Zayn.

A grin slowly overwhelmed his pink face. He reached up and removed his hat like a proper gentlemen. “Who’s this?”

Liam didn’t answer. He couldn’t really.

“This is Liam’s boyfriend,” his mum said. Zayn was catching on quickly, it seemed. He slipped his hand around Liam’s forearm, maybe to calm him, and stepped out from behind him.

George’s thick brows arched high. “His omega, you mean,” he said happily. He took a few quick strides closer. Too quick. The sound of his boots was drowned out by Liam’s heartbeat in his ears.

George extended his beefy hand for a shake. Liam drew Zayn back again, stepping just in front of him. His dad laughed. “Easy. I just want to shake the boy’s hand.”

“We were just leaving,” Liam said.

“Leaving?” his dad gasped comically. He looked at Zayn, dark eyes eager, almost hungry. Liam’s stomach rolled. “No. No, you have to stay for dinner… What’s your name, love?”

“We can’t stay,” Liam said.

George held up his hand to silence him. “Your name?” he asked again.

Unsmiling, Zayn answered him.

“Nice to meet you, Zayn. I’m George, Liam’s father. Sorry we haven’t met until now,” he said. “Come. Have a seat. Grace, why don’t we have dinner ready for our guest?”

“We’re leaving,” Liam repeated, voice tight. George’s eyes snapped to him.

“I’m sorry,” Zayn cut in quickly. “I have to get home actually. My family is waiting for me, so…” He tugged on Liam’s forearm. “It was lovely to meet you—”

“You’ll come back soon though, yeah?” George asked, reaching out.

Liam yanked Zayn back again, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he said, “Don’t touch him.” And he shouldn’t have, really. But he wasn’t himself. He was more the alpha than anything else right then. And the alpha wanted desperately to break his father’s fingers one by one. They glared at each other, the tension grown thick around them. Liam dropped his gaze first, unable to resist.

“Don’t show off because your bitch is here,” George grumbled.

His mum gasped. Liam curled his fist, readying for a blow right to his fat nose. Zayn tugged urgently on his shirt. “Liam, let’s go,” he said to him. “Now, please. Let’s go now.”

George took hold of Zayn’s arm. “Picked yourself a pretty one too.”

"Get your bloody hand off me," Zayn clipped.

Everything happened too quickly. George’s fingers tightened around Zayn's wrist and Liam’s brain short-circuited. He pulled Zayn, perhaps a little too roughly, into the circle of his arms, and shoved his father backward into the hutch where his mum kept the fancy plates.

He started ushering Zayn toward the door. There was a clatter and a crash behind him, followed by the sound of his mum’s pleas. He couldn’t stop to look back. Every instinct was screaming at him to get Zayn away from here. He couldn’t stop to take a breath until he followed through.

"Get him out of here," his dad was shouting for no reason other than to be an annoying prick. From the corner of his eye, he saw him on the ground. He’d tripped.

"Fuck you, man," Zayn seethed.

"Zayn," Liam warned.

"I said get him the fuck out of here," George kept shouting, incoherent and angry. Liam grabbed Zayn’s coat and his shoes. He tugged the door open, and pulled him into the night. He dropped the shoes to the ground and shoved Zayn’s feet into them himself.

“Liam,” Zayn was saying. Liam ignored him. He pulled the coat roughly around his body and started dragging him down the pavement, as far away from the house as he could possibly get. He was practically running with him.

He had to stop eventually because Zayn was out of breath and they were a safe distance away. Although no distance felt safe enough.

"What a fucking dick," Zayn panted. “Holy shit.”

“I need to get you home,” Liam said.

They were paused by a rickety street sign, halfway there. Zayn started pacing, shaking his head. He rounded on Liam. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“Please…” Liam mumbled tiredly.

“You should’ve told me,” Zayn said.

“It was better that you didn’t know.”

“You lied to me,” Zayn concluded.

"To keep you safe,” Liam added.

"I don't need you to keep me safe,” Zayn said. “I need you to be honest with me. How long has he been here?"

"You _do_ need me to keep you safe. That's the whole point of…” he gestured between them, “this. Being mated or whatever."

Zayn lifted both brows. "Oh, yeah? I thought it was because you were in love with me or some shit. Or better yet, because you didn’t know how to pull out. I didn’t ask you to protect me. And I sure as fuck didn’t ask you to mate with me."

Well, that stung.

Liam clenched his jaw. “I need to get you home now.”

“I need a smoke,” Zayn said.

Liam drew a box from his back pocket. Zayn reached into Liam’s front pocket where he knew he kept his lighter. Liam removed a cigarette and held it out to him. Zayn put his lips around it and lit it, long lashes cast down on the burst of flame. He returned the lighter and turned away. Liam fell into step two feet behind him.

They walked in tense silence. Zayn with his cigarette hanging from his mouth and his eyes focused ahead. Liam with his hands shoved into his pockets, kicking pebbles out of the way. Zayn held the cigarette out to him. Liam accepted it gratefully and took a drag.

Up ahead he could see Zayn's house coming into view and he couldn't let him leave like this. He wouldn’t get any sleep and he barely got any as is.

"I'm sorry," he said as he handed the cigarette back.

They came to a stop at the mailbox. Zayn dropped the cigarette to the ground and outed it with his toe. “Let’s just talk about it tomorrow,” he said. He lifted his hand to rake his hair away from his forehead and the light of an overhead street lamp caught on his wrist, the skin turning a deep fuchsia, the marks there shaped like George’s fingerprints.

Nausea unfurled in Liam’s stomach. He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning like he would cry. But really he wanted to put his fist through his father’s face. It was like a brand. Like his father’s mark on his omega _._ Liam’s omega. _His_.

“Do you need to stay here?” Zayn asked.

Numbly, Liam shook his head.

Zayn sighed. He smacked a quick, half-hearted kiss on Liam’s cheek while Liam stood there, frozen solid but not from the bitter December chill. “Good night,” he said. “Be safe.”

Liam wasn’t sure he responded. One second Zayn was in front of him, then he was walking up the steps to his house, and then the door was closing behind him.

His dad was sleeping when Liam returned home, sprawled out on the couch, and snoring. Liam stood over him and for the first time, he really truly considered killing him. Before then it was an abstract thought. This time Liam thought of breaking a beer bottle and shoving the broken end down the man’s throat.

If he ever touched Zayn again, Liam would do it. He swore to every deity and on every member of his family, living and dead, that if this man ever touched Zayn again, he would watch him bleed.

But he wasn’t going to let it get that far.

+

**12 December 2017**

Zayn’s game was off at practice that day. His eyes flickered so often to Liam sitting in the bleachers that eventually Liam did the whole team a solid and disappeared for a little bit. He caught up with him again once practice was over.

“I’ll meet you in a bit,” Zayn told Louis.

Louis threw Liam his usual stink eye before clearing out like the rest of his team mates. Liam waited until they were all gone. He leaned against the lockers beside Zayn’s, eyes on his wrist where the bruise was now a dark purplish black. “How’d you sleep?” he asked.

Zayn huffed a laugh. “Like shit. You?”

“Same,” Liam said. He sighed heavily. “I’m sorry again about everything. I never wanted to get you all caught up in this mess. But I’m taking care of it. So don’t worry.”

Zayn stared at him. Liam stared back, brows sinking as he grew confused.

“Cool,” Zayn breathed. “Thanks, I guess.”

He shut his locker a little harder than necessary. “You just don’t get it. I’m already caught up in this. You’re my alpha. Your mess is mine too.”

Liam shook his head. “Not with this. I really can’t have you involved in this.”

“Yeah, well. Good luck getting me to go along with that,” Zayn said with a laugh.

“I don’t really have to ask,” Liam said.

Zayn’s eyes narrowed. “Is that a threat, mate?” he asked. “’Cause in case you forgot, you don’t command me. You swore it.”

“I don’t want to. But to keep you safe…” Liam trailed off. He wouldn’t be able to do it anyhow. He remembered growing up, he used to think how cool it was that alphas had that sway over their omegas, that they could issue orders and see them fulfilled without protest. And then he met Zayn and thought differently. You don't look at a flower and dream of subduing it. He couldn’t be that person. He’d spent a lot of time trying to be as strong as his dad but never like that.

It was clear what he had to do. Zayn wasn’t going to stay away from this and Liam couldn’t command him to. Which meant the only thing left was to make it Zayn’s _choice_.

“Regardless of whatever it is you think you’re doing for me, the point is you weren’t honest,” Zayn said.

“I told you, it was best that you didn’t know,” Liam said. “I know…you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. But I think…that’s one of the things…he’s taught me. That kind of stuck.” The words felt like chalk leaving his mouth. It was a wonder he didn't choke on them.

“What?” Zayn looked as confused as Liam felt. Liam kept talking.

“My dad. He said once an alpha has to do things sometimes that their omega won’t like. They have to make tough decisions. And do what’s best. To keep their omega safe.”

“The same dad who nearly killed your mum, right?” Zayn said, lifting his brows. “He gave you lessons on keeping your omega safe and you _listened_?”

“He’s still my dad…”

“He’s a drunk fucking dick,” Zayn said. “And if you plan on taking his advice, then I’m out. I’m done. We're not your parents. We’re a team. We work shit out together.”

“Not with this. I think this is the one time, he’s right. Alphas…”

"What are you doing, Liam?” Zayn cut him off. “Why don’t you tell me where it is you’re going with this?"

Always so clever. He was the smartest person Liam had ever met. If no one else saw through a trick, he'd see it from a mile away.

"Nothing. I'm just saying…" Liam began. “I'm just... This isn’t about being a team. It’s about me being an alpha, and having to make choices for us both. And I’m choosing right now to keep you out of this. Even if that means lying to you.”

“Because your dad taught you that’s how it’s supposed to be,” Zayn said, looking at him like he was an idiot. He never did that. It stung more than anything.

“Yeah,” Liam muttered.

Zayn huffed a laugh. “You really should have thought about all this before you got your knot stuck in me.”

“You keep saying that like you didn’t want it,” Liam snapped. “Like it was all my fault.”

“Well, you make all the decisions for us, don’t you?” Zayn shot back.

Liam took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wanted to slam his fist into the locker, watch the metal cave in and pretend it was his father’s face.

“I do. And I just made another one,” Liam said quietly. “I’m not cut out for this, clearly. Having an omega. I’m not any good at it.”

Zayn rubbed his fingers over his forehead.

“You see what he’s like now," Liam went on. "And you know, me and you…it’s been fun, yeah. But I’m probably going to turn out just like him, so. It’s just best, you know, if you aren’t around for that."

Zayn exhaled quietly, eyes cast down on his shoes, hands jammed into his pockets. “You have five seconds to tell me you’re joking and then I’m leaving.”

Liam counted to five in his head. When he finished, Zayn reached down for his rucksack and threw the strap over his shoulder. “Fuck you, Liam,” he said as he eased past him. And without another word, though none were necessary, he left the locker room.

+

**12 April 2018**

Harry was just looking at him, blinking. “Why would you say _any_ of that to him?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” Liam said plainly.

“At least you’re aware,” Harry said. He sat back in his chair, shaking his head. “That was really, really, really stupid.”

Two less “reallys” would have been just fine. “I wouldn’t do it differently though,” Liam said, flicking a tiny piece of paper off his knee cap. “It worked the way I wanted it to. Don’t have to worry about my dad getting to him. Or having to kill my dad afterwards. I’d rather not go to jail.”

“I’m sure there was a better way though. Maybe if you’d tried telling him the truth in the first place. Then you could've talked to him calmly about staying away for his own safety…”

“You sound like my mum,” Liam said with a roll of his eyes. But just as he had with her, he started to think that Harry had a point. That if he’d been more respectful of Zayn in the first place, and not treated him like a helpless omega, things would have turned out differently. But those thoughts led to a wipe-out wave of self-loathing that Liam didn’t want to deal with. “Anyway, that’s the story. I took off for a bit afterwards. Me and my mum stayed with some cousins.”

“I remember. He was a mess,” Harry said. “He didn’t talk to anyone. I’m pretty sure he thought you were dead.”

“Didn’t need to know that,” Liam sniped.

 _You should come to school_.

Zayn sent that message while Liam was working his way through a joint in his cousin’s basement. He hadn’t thought at the time that Zayn was back home, falling apart without him. He just thought he was being demanding and condescending like he sometimes tended to be. And so Liam ignored that message.

“Just saying,” Harry said to him now. “Disappearing was a dick move.”

“Guess that makes me a dick,” Liam said with a shrug. “I’m done talking about this. It’s over with. He has Niall now, doesn’t he?”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question. He was in fact fishing for confirmation from Harry. Harry offered him nothing. Just stared at his hands in his lap.

Probably for the best. Niall’s tongue in Zayn’s mouth was all the confirmation Liam could stomach for a lifetime. He didn’t want details. He just wanted to know Zayn was taken care of. He didn’t want to know about the alpha Zayn eventually ended up with. He just wanted him to end up with one.

It wasn’t impossible. Jay had done it, was mated to Louis’ dad before he ran off, and then ended up with Zayn’s dad. And sure, that hadn’t all turned out very well either. But things could be different for Zayn.

He would be okay. He’d move on. And in ten, twenty years, after the pain ebbed, the alpha of his teenage years might just be a fond memory.

+

**15 March 2017**

They were like two puzzle pieces that appeared to fit. Until you were nearly finished with the whole picture and things weren’t adding up. Upon closer inspection, you realized that the edges of the two pieces didn’t sit quite right, weren’t curving into each other the way they should. That was him and Zayn.

Liam was the piece that didn’t belong to the puzzle at all, the one that had been collecting dust beneath the couch from some forgotten puzzle years ago. The whole picture was better off without him.

And that was the reason he had to let him go.

Louis had said that Zayn liked broken things. Maybe it was true that he stuck around Liam because he thought he could fix him. So, it was best that Liam broke the news to him now: it wasn’t, and never would be, possible.

They were seated on a park bench on a Saturday night when Liam finally got the nerve going. “Zayn, listen to me,” he began. “We need—”

“What is that?” Zayn interrupted, leaning forward with his eyes narrowed.

Liam sighed. “What?”

“Over there,” Zayn said pointing ahead of them. He got to his feet and strolled forward. “Come on.” He approached the shrubs separating the pitch from a wooded area of the park and crouched down.

“Shit, Liam. Come ‘ere,” Zayn turned to whisper.

Curious, Liam hurried forward. He got down on his knees, peering under the bush with Zayn.

It was a kitten, seemingly only a few days old, so small it would fit completely in either of their palms. It was a wonder it was even alive.

Zayn reached under the bush.

“Hey,” Liam said. “What if its mother is close by?”

“I doubt it,” Zayn said. The kitten made a soft noise as he drew it gently into the open. “It’s weak. I don’t think it’s been fed.”

He cradled it against his chest, stroking the small creature’s head with his thumb, looking at it adoringly. He liked broken things. A weak kitten, a dying flower, Liam.

“We could keep it,” Liam said, with special emphasis on _We._ Maybe to set himself apart from the rest.

Zayn furrowed his brows. “Where?”

“I don’t know. We could find a place for it. We could raise it together,” he said.

Zayn smiled, his expression unreadable. He kept stroking the kitten’s head. “How about we just get it milk for now? You have some at yours?”

“Yeah,” Liam said. He needed to remember what he’d come here to do. “Come on.”

He led Zayn back to his house, shooting glances at him with this kitten in his arms, cooing to it. He looked like a saint. He looked sort of angelic, untouchable. And Liam always wanted to touch him. Either to tuck his hair back behind his ear or lean in for a kiss. With his rough, unfit hands. He shoved them into his pockets.

Zayn got the milk from Liam’s fridge and found a turkey baster to use as a bottle. He paced the kitchen slowly while the kitten drank.

“You really think we could raise it?” Zayn asked.

Liam shrugged. “We could try. I could keep it in my room.”

Zayn seemed to consider it. “Neither of us can afford food.”

“I’ve got cans of tuna,” Liam said.

Zayn shook his head. “It won’t be able to eat tuna for a little while, I think. We should probably take it to a vet.”

Liam watched him start with the pacing again, humming softly. His dad would have tossed the kitten through the window by now. And he didn’t know why he was thinking of his dad in this moment, except that he felt weak. He felt weak and he wondered why. And he wondered what a stronger alpha would do in this situation. And doing what his dad might have done definitely wasn’t right.

He always just felt weak with Zayn. He never knew what he was doing. And everything he thought to do felt wrong.

They found an old shoebox and lined it with a few old scarves from the coat cupboard. And the kitten fell asleep within minutes of them nestling it inside.

“I’ll take it with me,” Zayn said. “My mum has a friend who’s a vet. I bet he’d look at him for free.”

Liam didn’t say anything. Zayn just kept stroking the kitten gently and Liam just kept thinking that if it were his own hands he probably would have hurt it.

“I’ll get you a million cats some day,” he said abruptly. “In a big house with a big backyard for you to play footie. Millions of cats.”

Zayn looked at him, brows raised. He laughed softly. “I don’t need millions of cats. I actually prefer dogs. And a small house would do,” he said. He dropped his gaze to the shoebox again. “…Long as you’re there.”

This was all wrong. Everything Liam had practiced saying no longer made sense. The words no longer felt right. His courage to speak them was gone. Zayn turned away from the box altogether and watched him carefully.

“I’m glad you’re smiling again,” he said. “You haven’t been all week.”

Liam hadn’t meant to smile, not with his thoughts racing the way they were. “I only smile around you anyway.”

“Not even with me though,” Zayn said. He tilted his head to the side, trying to catch Liam’s gaze. “You can talk to me about it, y’know? If something’s bothering you.”

Liam nodded. “I know,” he said. Zayn studied him, eyes narrowed, smile small. He stepped forward, fingers curling around the ends of Liam’s coat. They kissed slowly, lips cold and slightly chapped.

“What time does your mum come home?” Zayn asked, pressing his hands against Liam’s chest to push him back a little.

“Not until late,” Liam said.

“Let’s go to your room then,” Zayn said. “It’s warmer there.”

He smiled, brows shooting upward suggestively. He slipped away from him, heading toward the steps. Liam hesitated for a second, thinking _it’s not too late_ , but following him anyhow. They headed up the steps and toward Liam’s room, where Zayn pulled his jumper up over his head and discarded it on the floor. He reached for the hem of Liam’s shirt and tugged it up and off.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?” he offered. “Please?”

He leaned in for a kiss, which Liam granted him.

He was young, unprepared and unwilling to say no, and most of all, tired. He stepped close, his mouth meeting Zayn’s collarbone, and he breathed him in.

“Do you want to like…” Zayn’s voice trailed off. Liam worked on his love bite as he listened. “I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

Liam stalled. The question sounded heavier than it should. He couldn’t put his finger on why. “Just want you. Whatever you want,” he said.

Zayn set his hands on Liam’s shoulders and said quietly. “Do you want to like…you know…” He gestured with his brows and a nod of his head. “Like, fuck?”

Liam’s mouth hovered over Zayn’s neck, tongue gone dry. He lifted his face away from its hiding spot and met Zayn’s eyes. “Serious question?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you want to,” Zayn said, casting his eyes downward, studying the tattoo on Liam’s chest. There was a flush to his face and neck probably from their bodies pressed so close together but also maybe from what he was saying.

“Of course I do,” Liam said. “I just don’t want to rush. Like, if you don’t really want to...”

“We’ve been together for a year. And I do— Really want to,” Zayn said and then he was leaning up for another kiss, ready to stop talking about it and just do it. Because the pink tint to his cheeks was definitely from inviting Liam to fuck him. Absolutely.

There was more Liam should be saying. He should ask about mating and popping a knot because that was the responsible thing to do, and it was bound to happen. He should ask if Zayn was on suppressants because they were only fifteen and God help them if he got pregnant. But Zayn was kissing him and running his mouth over his jaw and Liam couldn’t do anything but kiss him back.

He’d have to remember to pull out. Simple as that.

Liam pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it near Zayn’s, watching him shuffle backward on the bed. Zayn was already unbuttoning his jeans and lifting his bum to push them down. Liam helped him, tugging them away with an unnecessary level of attention before allowing his eyes to flutter upward, over Zayn’s cock, his bare torso, and his dark, focused eyes.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Liam said.

Zayn rolled his eyes, smile bashful. “Same to you.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Liam asked.

Zayn nodded. “Pretty sure. Can you remove your jeans now? Or should I do it for you?”

Liam scoffed. “I got it, thank you.”

“Are you going to pull out?”

He pushed his jeans and pants down to his ankles, his eyes darting upward to meet Zayn’s. “Yeah, I will.”

If Zayn had any differing opinions on that, he didn’t bother voicing them.

They got themselves situated comfortably. Liam thought for a second about lighting one of his mum’s candles, putting on some music or something, and really setting the mood. He wondered how Zayn would take the gesture. If he would laugh or if he’d be moved.

Liam lined himself up, throwing nervous glances between Zayn’s face and the space between their bodies.

“It’s okay,” Zayn said softly, settling his hands on Liam’s hips. “Come on.” He urged him forward.

Liam hovered for a minute longer, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s cheek, his jaw, and his collarbone. He breathed him in deeply, losing himself to the scent. And then he slipped inside.

Zayn glanced down between them. His brow twitched, in what looked like discomfort. Liam stilled.

“Are you okay?” he asked, breathlessly without having done much. “I can stop.”

Zayn shook his head. “I’m fine. Feels good,” he said. “You won’t hurt me, Liam. Come on.”

And he wouldn’t. It was true. The alpha wouldn’t let him, even the boy was prone to. It happened slowly at first. Not the way Liam expected it to go, from being with girls. Those experiences were speedier, fleeting. They started one second and were over the next. In retrospect, the thought was embarrassing, but Liam had never been concerned with prolonging the moment, not like he did now.

He wanted to stay suspended with Zayn for as long as possible.

They were curled tight around each other. Liam hadn’t taken him the way alphas were supposed to. Zayn wasn’t on all fours and Liam was happy for that. Happy for the way Zayn bundled himself into him. His arms and legs squeezed tightly as if to never let go, as if he’d known all along, all the thoughts tormenting Liam as of late. As if to say “You’re mine.”

When Zayn came, he clenched tight on him, prompting a groan to tumble from Liam’s mouth. They kissed, sloppily, desperately.

He’d gotten too lost. He missed the swell of his knot all together and only registered it again when it caught on Zayn’s rim.

Pull out, he thought. _Pull the fuck out._

Trying to remind himself was all well and great. But something in his mind had already clicked off. And Zayn was beneath him, murmuring words of encouragement, and Liam wouldn’t have registered the alarm bells if they’re were blaring in his ears.

All he knew was that he wanted to keep making Zayn fall apart, keep him writhing beneath him. He wanted release so badly. And he wanted it with Zayn safe and snug around him.

Everything else faded into black. When he came, so did his vision. For a second, he saw nothing.  And then things came back into focus, and he watched Zayn gasping open-mouthed as he shot again across his toned stomach.

He was beautiful, so perfect it was a shame Liam couldn’t just admire him for a moment. He couldn’t because he was then instantly aware of the predicament they were in.

“Oh, fuck,” Liam breathed. He should have known better than to try to move.

Zayn made a noise, digging his fingers into Liam’s bicep. “No, fuck, you have to stay still.”

Liam swallowed around the massive suffocating lump in his throat. “I just…” he began to say. “Shit, I just…”

“I know. It’s okay,” Zayn said.

“You keep saying that. You always say that but this isn’t okay. I just…we just…” Liam’s voice was embarrassingly squeaky. “Fuck. We’re, like, mated now, aren’t we?”

“Seems so,” Zayn said quietly.

“Oh, fuck. I’m sorry,” Liam babbled. “Fuck, Zayn, I’m so—”

Zayn pulled him to his chest and tried to calm him down with one hand pressed to his back and the other smoothing over the back of his head. “I’m not,” he said. “I mean it, it’s okay.”

Liam paused. He tried to pull back to look at him. “You’re not…?”

Zayn shook his head. “No. I mean, it would have happened eventually. We’re still young now but I guess in five years, it would have been time.”

Not exactly. Liam hadn’t planned for them to be together for that long.

“I don’t feel sorry about it. It feels nice. And I love you, so. I’m not sorry. Are you?”

Liam didn’t answer for so long that Zayn started to frown. He stopped making eye contact with him and started to slide his hands away from Liam’s skin.

“No,” Liam said. A lie, of course. But what choice did he have? “I don’t feel sorry about it. Not if you don’t.”

Zayn smiled. “Good.”

It kept Liam up at night, thinking about what they’d done and what this meant.

Whether he wanted it or not, Zayn was his now. And maybe it seemed like a good idea to Zayn in the moment, but in a few years, when Liam turned out just like his dad, what could either of them do then?

+

**16 April 2018**

“You want my opinion?” Harry asked gravely. His mood was especially off today. Liam could tell from the way he strolled on over to him fists all balled up. Three weeks and one day since breaking up with Louis. Liam wasn’t keeping count or anything but he kind of was.

“Sure,” Liam said with a laugh. “What’s your opinion, Harry?”

“You’re weak,” Harry said, nodding. “Without Zayn, you’re weak. And this—” He let his notebook with all his brainstorming fall from his hand. “—this is pointless.”

Liam wasn’t hearing right. Clearly. “Sorry, what?”

Harry shook his head. “Alphas are shit without their omegas. That’s in actual textbooks, Liam. You get weaker when you let your omega go. It’s a fact. You give part of yourself to them when you form the bond. And you let that part go when you let them go.”

Liam didn’t read many textbooks. And even if he had, he still wouldn’t buy this shit.

“I don’t _need_ Zayn. If that’s all you’ve got, I’ll handle it on my own."

“Good luck with that,” Harry said. He stood and brushed off his jeans.

“You’re leaving?” Liam asked, eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” Harry said.

“That’s it?” Liam hissed. “What the fuck was the point of even pretending to help then? You’re calling me weak and all you’ve been doing is just moping about Louis the whole time. As if he didn't leave you."

Harry paused.

"Fuck Louis," Liam said. "Fuck Zayn. We don’t need them. What’s weak is crying about omegas all fucking—”

Harry shoved him off the swing.

Liam had pretty stellar reflexes. But there was no part of him that saw that coming. He tumbled backward and hit his arse _hard_ , wood chips flying up around him. The wind flew from his lungs.

Harry stepped over his prostrate body and grabbed Liam by the shirt.

It wasn’t even that he was bigger or buffer now. Harry had never been physically inferior in the first place. His attitude was different. When he looked at Liam, he didn’t look like he was forcing himself to be strong. He just was.

Mostly, though, he was angry.

“Listen to me, you prick,” Harry snapped.

Liam had been waiting for years for Harry to put up a good fight. But when he tried to shove him backward, Harry only held tighter and then dropped his knee into Liam’s chest, keeping him pinned.

“Get the fuck off of me,” Liam said, pushing both hands into Harry’s chest. No way was he losing a fight to Harry Styles. No fucking way.

He just hadn’t been prepared. Not for any of it. Definitely not prepared for when Harry punched him in the fucking face.

Harry looked just as stunned as Liam felt. Pain rippled over his cheek and jaw, causing his eyes to well up.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Liam squealed.

“Fuck,” Harry said, flexing his hand, an odd laugh bubbling out of his mouth. “Hand slipped.”

Liam threw everything he had into pushing Harry away. Harry tumbled back and Liam reached for his collar and curled his fist. Harry turned into a worm, wriggling from underneath him. He started to get to his feet. Liam caught him around the ankles, tugged him down. So ready to kick his arse.

Or not.

Harry escaped again. They grappled, trying to keep the other pinned. Nails caught on skin. Elbows knocked against the rungs of ribs.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Harry wheezed. “He told you he loved you and you let him go.”

Liam had half a mind to headbutt him. “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?”

They shoved each other away, panting heavy, glaring.

“You’re fucking lucky I’m not in the mood to beat your arse,” Liam declared.

Harry made a show of shivering. “I’m terrified.”

Liam spit the blood from his mouth and massaged his jaw. “Fucking hurt..."

“Payback can be that way sometimes,” Harry panted.

Liam released his jaw and started tweaking his nose. He sank to the wood chips and braced his arms atop his knees. “You’d have to hit me a few more times to call us even,” Liam said.

“Don’t tempt me,” Harry said, chest heaving. He flexed his fingers and scrutinized his knuckles. He looked at Liam solemnly. “Zayn isn’t with Niall. You can get him back. And you need to.”

Liam looked at him like he was crazy. “I should get you back for breaking my fucking nose.”

“Your nose isn’t broken. And you _could_ do that, sure,” Harry said. “But you’ll still be alone and single.”

“Like you?”

Harry's reddened cheeks grew big as he exhaled a tired breath. “Yeah. Like me. I’m alone and single and spending all my time with you, because trying to figure this shit out with your dad keeps me distracted. Because whenever I'm not reading forums online or articles, I'm thinking about Louis. That’s how I know it hurts.”

Liam shook his head. “Why aren’t you taking your own advice then?”

“'Cause he doesn't--” Harry’s voice broke. His bottom lip trembled. If he started crying now, Liam only prayed the earth beneath him would swallow him up. “Louis doesn’t want me anymore. It’s different for you. Zayn still wants you.”

“If you actually think Louis doesn’t want you, you’re an idiot too,” Liam said, wiping his nose with the bottom of his t-shirt. Yeah, he’d just admitted that he himself was an idiot. But he already knew that.

“Whatever. Just go talk to Zayn,” Harry said. “And don’t talk to me until you do.”

He reached for his rucksack, tossed the strap hastily over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

+

Liam had spoken to Zayn since their breakup. Twice actually. Neither of those times had ended well.

A few days before Zayn's birthday, Waliyah had texted him. "Zayn’s missing," she'd said, and left it at that. Liam didn’t blame her for being short and he didn’t need much information beyond that. He caught his scent after walking around the neighborhood for five minutes, and followed it.

Several miles away from home, Zayn was sitting on a lonely tire swing with a cigarette in hand.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” Liam said, stepping into view. “Your family’s worried sick.”

Zayn didn’t even react to his voice. He must have smelled him coming. Maybe he’d even lured him here.

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“I never stopped caring about you, Zayn. Never will.”

Zayn sucked on his cigarette. “How’s the fam?”

“My mum is fine,” Liam said.

“And your dad?” Zayn questioned. “Setting good examples for you?”

“Not doing this with you,” Liam said, shaking his head. “Let me walk you home.”

“Fuck off, seriously.” Zayn flicked his finished cigarette away and drew another one from his pocket. “I can get myself home.”

Liam kicked at the woodchips beneath his feet. “You don’t have to talk to me. But I’m walking you home when you’re ready.”

He took a seat on the cold ground and waited. Zayn’s shoulders trembled from the cold. Every instinct told Liam to pull him close for warmth. Zayn’s eyes flickered to his.

“I hate you so much.”

Liam 's breath stilled.

Zayn nodded. “I really hate you,” he murmured, dragging a hand under his nose, and sliding off the tire swing.

“You should,” Liam said quietly.

“I don’t care if you walk five steps behind me. Just don’t talk to me. Stop coming to my house. I know it every time you’re there. Stop asking about me. Stop looking at me at school. You want out but it’s like you refuse to leave,” Zayn said. “After this, I want you to stay away from me.”

“I’m just making sure you’re safe,” Liam muttered.

“And stop acting like you give a shit,” Zayn replied. He took another drag on his cigarette and started back home. Liam rested his head in his palms. His eyes stung so he dug the heels of his hands into them. He pushed himself to his feet and started after him, careful to remain five steps away at all times.

He didn’t speak to him. Zayn said nothing before he went into his house when they arrived. That was the end of that.  

+

The second time was at Ian’s party.

Liam was nearing a rut for the first time in two months. He stopped having them for a while. The absence of an omega threw his hormones into disorder, and left him worried enough about his health that he even considered seeing a doctor.

And then all the telltale signs of an encroaching rut returned: the moodiness and the sleeplessness and the heightened sensitivity to omegas, Zayn, in particular. It pushed Liam to seek him out. Especially amidst rumors buzzing around lately about Niall Horan seizing an opportunity when he saw it.

That brought Liam to Ian’s party.

He greeted Ian when he stepped inside and shook hands with Ian’s alpha, Renaldo.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Renaldo had said, while Ian was distracted with a friend. He drew Liam close and spoke quietly. “I know you’ve always looked out for Ian in my absence and I’m grateful for it. He told me about your problems with another alpha. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”

Liam looked at him, silent understanding passing between them. “Maybe later, if you still have time,” he said. “I heard you have a friend who sells particular things…”

Renaldo’s smile was grim.

“Yeah, and I can get you something for free if you need it soon,” he said, returning his gaze steadily. Ian had mentioned recently that he had ways of getting Liam a gun, if he should ever need it. At this point, everyone at school knew about his troubles at home. Except the teachers, of course.

It was a terrifying thought to ever have to use a gun. But as days passed, it seemed more and more likely. Having one in the home wouldn’t be the worst idea, would it? He and his mum had bruises that said no.

Liam squeezed Renaldo’s hand one last time and patted him on his arm. “Thanks, mate. I’ll catch up with you later.”

He’d caught Zayn’s scent as soon as he’d walked into the place. Ian and Renaldo moved into the next room and Liam stepped into the kitchen, his eyes connecting with Harry’s for one moment, struck by their conversation in the grocery store only days prior, when Harry offered to help. He couldn’t think about that now.

He pulled his gaze away and headed toward the back door, pushing into the cool night air. Zayn’s scent was stronger. The way it was when he was readying for a cock. It made Liam walk faster, round the corner faster.

And then he saw him. With Niall.

He saw flashes of tongue and their breath turning to clouds in the cold air.

Zayn pulled away without Liam having to speak a word, because he smelled him. He pushed Niall back and scrambled up from the ground, panting.

“Guess you’re doing fine then,” Liam said, quietly.

Zayn glanced at Niall. “Give us a minute.”

“Sure,” Niall said coolly. He stood up, eyes meeting Liam’s for one slow second. Liam might actually kill him. Niall disappeared around the corner. Several seconds of silence passed.

“I don’t think we need a minute,” Liam said to Zayn, shaking his head. He squeezed his hands into fist.

“Be calm,” Zayn said. “You want to talk? We can talk. Just calm down.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Liam said, swiveling back the way he came.

“ _Liam_ —”

He took long quick strides, closing the distance between himself and the door easily. He yanked it open. He saw Niall and nothing else. When he got close enough, he could smell Zayn on him.

The rage was blinding and consuming. He couldn’t think past the word _mine_ and everything that threatened the sanctity of it.

He was outnumbered. Every man against him. Even Harry, despite his offers to help, would side with Niall. No one was ever on Liam’s side.

Except Zayn.

And he’d let him go.

He had no one to blame but himself for that.

Zayn followed him out of the house and several blocks down the road in silence, stumbling to keep up with him. If Liam broke into a sprint, he’d definitely lose him. But he didn’t have anywhere to run to except home. And he wasn’t in a hurry to get back there.

“Why are you still following me?” Liam asked. His nose was itching from Zayn’s scent.

“Making sure you don’t do something stupid,” Zayn said.

“Like what?” Liam asked, glancing behind him. “Hook up with someone else?”

“Don’t be a dick.”

“I don’t know why you’d care,” Liam said.

Zayn didn’t respond for a while. But he was still behind him. Liam didn’t have to look to know that.

“This was what you wanted,” Zayn said suddenly.

“What I want right now is for you to stop following me,” Liam said, walking furiously. He got to the corner of the next block and realized the scent had dwindled. He swiveled around. Zayn had paused a few steps away.

“You don’t get to make me feel bad about this,” Zayn said over the distance. “I’m not sorry.”

“Have you fucked him?” Liam asked.

“You don’t get to ask me that either,” Zayn said.

“Did you?” Liam asked again.

“No,” Zayn replied.

They stood there looking at each other.

“I see you’re nearing a rut. I could smell it on you all week,” Zayn said. Liam felt his cheeks grow warm, from embarrassment or something else. “So I guess now you give a shit what I’m doing with my time. I’ve gone through two heats by myself, did you know?”

“I did,” Liam said.

“Now you get to see how it feels,” Zayn said.

If Liam’s rut started right this second, Zayn wouldn’t walk away from him. The bond wouldn’t let him. But he was unwilling and that changed everything. Forcing your partner using a rut, or channeling pheromones to seduce them, was a trick his father would pull. And Liam never wanted to be his father.

“Go back to the party,” Liam said. “Make sure someone gets you home safe.”

Zayn remained there for a second longer, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He turned and headed back the way they’d come. It ached to see the back of his head drift farther away when every instinct Liam possessed said to draw him closer.

+

**18 April 2018**

Harry was apparently serious about not talking to him until he talked to Zayn. He didn’t answer his texts for two days and when he did, he responded with “Zayn” and nothing further.

Ian gave him a gun that same day. A gift from Renaldo, he’d called it. Liam had stuffed it under the passenger seat as soon as he got the chance and tried to pretend it wasn’t there at all. But without Harry, it seemed he was once again on his own. And so perhaps, it would come in handy.

Later, he saw Louis at Tesco with his sister.

He wasn’t going to talk to him, obviously. But when Louis looked at him, it wasn’t with his usual scowl. He wasn’t wearing any expression at all. They stood at the butcher section, waiting to place orders.

Louis’ sister had wandered off, leaving him there alone.

Liam rocked back and forth on his heels, gaze inevitably sliding to his left. Louis was already looking at him.

“How’s Harry?” he asked.

Liam’s brow furrowed. The left corner of his mouth twitched. The butcher looked at Louis expectantly and then Louis stepped forward to place his order quickly. He stepped off the side.

“Forget it,” he told Liam.

“How do you think he is?” Liam replied.

Louis looked away. Now the scowl was back.

“How’s Zayn?” Liam asked.

“How do you think he is?” Louis asked, sneering.

Liam gave his order to the butcher and stepped to the side next to Louis. “Harry is different. He’s changed a lot since you. And after you. In good ways and bad ways too.”

“Bad ways?” Louis repeated.

“Have you looked at him in the past few weeks? Does he look like he’s slept at all?” Liam questioned. “Does he look happy?”

Louis clenched his jaw. “He will be eventually. It’s all for his own good.”

Funny, he sounded a lot like Liam. “How do you know what’s best for him?” Liam asked.

“I’m taking a very educated guess. Harry is the kind to mate and I’m not. It’s not an issue now but in five or six years, it will be,” Louis said. “What I’m doing is logical. But since we’re on this topic, how do _you_ know what’s best for Zayn?”

“You don’t know what’s going on with me and Zayn,” Liam said.

“Yeah, I do. Harry figured it out— He said it had to do with your father. Zayn still hasn’t told me but it doesn’t take a brain surgeon to figure it out. Breaking his heart to keep him safe, are you? I never knew you were so chivalrous. You’re a fucking martyr,” Louis said with a small laugh.

“And you’re just selfish,” Liam said, shrugging. “So I guess I win.”

The butcher signaled for Louis to collect his order. He stepped forward again, swiped his items up and dropped them carelessly in his cart. He turned to Liam sharply. “How am I selfish?”

“You’re scared. And you’re projecting that fear onto Harry. Making choices for him that he never wanted to make,” Liam said. “You act like you’re doing it for him but it’s all for you. You’re just scared. He’s not your dad, Louis.”

“What the fuck would you know about my dad?”

“I know he’s just as good as mine,” Liam said.

“Fuck off,” Louis said with a roll of his eyes. He slipped past Liam. The butcher called Liam forward for his order. He collected it and hurried away from the counter, swinging his gaze back and forth through the store until he spotted Louis disappearing into another aisle. He caught up with him quickly.

“When you love someone, you’re supposed to make sacrifices. I think Harry is willing to sacrifice a lot for you,” Liam said.

Louis sighed loudly. “Please leave me alone.”

“I bet you’d be willing to do the same for him if you just tried. Because you love him. I know you love him,” Liam said. “You have for years.”

When Louis rounded on him this time, his cheeks and the edges of his eyes were red, but no tears had fallen yet. Maybe he’d run out. “I _am_ making a sacrifice,” he said. “I fucking _know_ I’m selfish and that's why he deserves better.”

“Even though you love each other?” Liam questioned.

Louis sighed. “Even then.”

Liam couldn’t argue with him. Because he’d recited the same words in his head for the past few months. But somehow looking at it from the outside, it didn’t make sense. If you loved a person, and they loved you, the least you could do was try, wasn’t it? And keep trying until you couldn’t?

Louis had given up on Harry without trying. And Liam…had given up on Zayn.

“We aren’t that much different,” Liam said to Louis.

Louis snorted, dragging his sleeve across his eyes, and sniffing. “I’m a hundred times better than you,” he said with a laugh. There wasn’t much bite to it.

Liam’s lips twitched. “Really, though. How are you? How have you been?”

Louis cringed. “For fuck’s sake, don’t be _nice_ to me. It’s weird.”

Well, Liam had tried. For a second, they stood there, awkwardly. Louis looked ready to leave. Before he could, Liam spoke. “Do you think I have another shot with Zayn?”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “If it were up to him, probably. But my mum will never let it happen,” he said. “Why? Do you want another shot with Zayn?”

Liam shrugged. “Harry thinks I’m shit without him.”

“As usual, Harry is right,” Louis said, looking almost proud.

“He’s shit without you,” Liam added.

The smug smile slipped off Louis’ face. “If he’s shit without me, then I’m a fucking sewer without him. And if you tell him I said that, I will do my very best to make sure you never see Zayn again.”

Liam nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “You should tell him yourself.”

“Not a chance,” Louis said. He slipped both hands into his pockets, shopping basket hanging off his arm. “So, what’s your plan then? For getting Zayn back?”

“Talking to him is a good place to start,” Liam said.

Louis studied him. “I never did think you deserved him.”

“I don’t,” Liam said.

“ _But_ ,” Louis said, holding up a hand. “I think he deserves to be happy. And when you aren’t being a cunt, somehow you make him happy.”

“Louis!”

They both turned and saw Louis’ sister coming down the aisle. “I’ve been looking everywhere,” she was saying.

Louis looked at Liam again. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Liam said.

Louis’ sister, Felicite, dumped a few things in the basket, glancing at Liam. “Hi,” she said, fleetingly. Every member of the Tomlinson clan hated Liam at the moment, it seemed. Which he deserved.

“Hey,” Liam said.

Louis started to turn away, hooking his free arm around his sister’s shoulders.

“At least talk to him, mate,” Liam said.

Louis paused. His eyelashes fell against his cheeks and his lips turned downward. “I’ll think about it,” he said. “Thank you, by the way. For like sticking around him. I know he has Niall but I think you two understand each other more than you think.”

Liam thought about Harry at 10, speeding beside him on his gleaming blue bike. Commencing every mission with him until Liam decided he was no longer a worthy partner. He'd been wrong. Everything in his life, Liam had been wrong about. Including Harry.

Harry was the best partner of them all.

“See you around, Liam," Louis called, gaze knowing and understanding.

Liam nodded. "See you around."

+

**20 April 2018**

Liam assumed any chance of ever being with Zayn again was far out of reach but he found himself forging yet another plan of attack. Or more accurately, a plan of redemption.

The problem was that Liam never planned anything. He had to go at this head first like always.

He waited for Zayn after practice.

The hallways were empty as they usually were around that time. The sound of the boys drifting out of the locker room charged Liam. He stood up off the linoleum, drawing gazes and summoning whispers. He ignore everyone but Zayn, sauntering out beside Louis. He smelled him first. His gaze swung across the expanse of the hallway before landing on Liam. He squeezed the strap of his rucksack as Liam approached. Louis looked at Liam and for the second time now, he didn’t scowl.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” he said.

“No,” Zayn said quickly. “It’s fine—”

“Please?” Liam interrupted. “If you have a minute.”

Zayn glanced at him again.

“I’ll be outside,” Louis said and left them to themselves. More boys left the locker room, all of them looking at Liam and Zayn, curiously. Harry was one of the last to leave and of course, Niall was beside him. Both somehow resisted the urge to snarl. It wouldn’t do Liam any favors now.

Harry threw an arm around Niall’s shoulders, urging him away, though Niall kept craning his head around as they made their way down the hall.

Zayn didn’t look at anyone. He kept his eyes averted long after the hallway cleared. After several seconds, reluctantly, he directed his attention to Liam. “Did something happen at home?”

Liam shook his head. “No.”

“Are you keeping ice on that?” Zayn asked, nodding to the bruise above Liam’s brow.

Liam had forgotten it was there. “It hardly hurts anymore.”

Zayn nodded, eyes cast down again. “What is it, then?” he asked nervously.

“I just wanted to talk for a bit,” Liam said.

“We don’t really have anything to talk about,” Zayn said. “I don’t have time—”

“When will you have time?” Liam wondered. “Just let me know when’s best for you.”

Confusion wrinkled Zayn’s thick brows. “What are you doing, Liam? What do you want?”

“To say I’m sorry?”

The scowl loosened immediately. Zayn squeezed the straps of his rucksack again. “For what exactly? There’s a lot.”

“All of it. But I can list out each thing. If you’d just give me a chance to explain,” Liam said, stepping closer.

Zayn took a step back. “Are you expecting it to be that easy? You just explain and then I forgive you and let it all go?”

Liam opened his mouth.

“It’s not going to work, trust me,” Zayn said.

"I’m a massive idiot," Liam said anyhow. "And I don't deserve you. I never did."

Zayn shook his head, breathing a short, disbelieving laugh. He began to turn away.

"But I want you anyway. I need you," Liam said. He sounded like an idiot to his own ears but he talked on. "I said the things I said and did the things I did to keep you safe. Always. That’s the reason I do everything. You’re the most important person in the world to me."

“I can’t,” Zayn said. He eased past Liam. “I can’t do this with you.”

Liam turned and followed him.

"I was wrong about all of it though. Everything I did, I did it wrong. And I'm an idiot. And I know that now," he said. "I don't— I don't know what to do, to make this better. I'm not sure. But I'll do anything. Whatever you need from me—"

“You can’t make it better,” Zayn snapped. His eyes were bright with tears he would fight until he got home. His lips turned white where his teeth pressed into his skin. He curled his fist tightly, like he was readying for a punch.

"You broke my fucking heart, Liam. Do you get that?”

"I know,” Liam said. “I broke mine too."

Zayn glared at him. "Not as much as mine."

"No, I know. I just mean, I meant that— I thought I could do this, just stay away from you and that would make things right, but it's only broken everything. More than it already was."

"We weren't broken, Liam,” Zayn said. “We were fine. You broke us."

"I was broken then. Come on, Z. Of course I was. It's why I shut down sometimes. Why I treated people the way I did. I was a fucking mess. And you couldn't fix that, no matter how much you loved me, I had to fix it myself. You never wanted to admit it but I was a fucking mess."

One tear slipped down Zayn's cheek and he wiped at it before it could cover much ground. He hated to cry in front of people. Liam knew that. He hated himself for making it happen in spite of that, right now and all the times before.

"What's changed then? You're broken. We're broken. Whatever. Nothing's changed," Zayn said.

"It has— For the first time in a really long time, my head’s just clear. What I want and what I need, I get it now. And it isn't any of the shit my dad ever told me I did. It's not. It's just you," Liam said. "I was wrong. I do need you. You know that. I need you so much."

Zayn wiped his forearm over his eyes roughly but they were still red and damp. He looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe this shit…”

Liam was running out of things to say. “I don’t expect it to be easy. You might never forgive me and I deserve that. I’m just saying it so you know. So you know I’m not going to give up on us again,” he said. “That’s all.”

Zayn exhaled a deep breath. "I really started to hate you," he said. "You know what that feels like? To be so in love with someone and then to just hate their guts? Even now, I feel like I hate you. I want to hate you, Liam. I’d feel better then. I think anything would feel better than this. You broke my fucking heart and it hurts and I'm angry as fuck. And I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of that shit you just said. Because I’m not going to stop being angry with you. I don’t think I’m ever going to let this go."

He stopped talking, squeezing his hands into fists again. He held his breath for so long Liam thought he was trying to suffocate himself. Then he exhaled another big breath and stretched his fingers out and pushed restart.

"I’m glad that you’ve fixed that for yourself,” Zayn said. “That you feel better about things now. Everything’s clear for you now…”

Liam swallowed through the stiffness of his throat, hearing the "but" before Zayn could say it. "Zayn..."

“No.” Zayn shook his head. "No, I'm happy you're not broken anymore or whatever. But I am now. So no. You don't get to fix _this_. There’s no fixing this."

**+**

**21 April 2018**

“Obviously,” Louis said with a long, dramatic roll of his eyes. “Did you expect to apologize and have everything be peachy?”

Liam didn’t justify his question with an answer. Of course, he hadn’t expected things to go easily. He just hadn’t expected them to go that badly either.

Louis took another drag of his cigarette. “I’ll tell you this though. He came home and started blasting this emo shit. So you definitely got to him.”

“Great,” Liam said. “Too bad he wants nothing to do with me.”

“You’ve got to give it time. A lot of time. If you’re going to be impatient, you might as well give up now.”

“I can be patient for him. That’s not the problem,” Liam said. “It’s just that Harry says I need him to get rid of my dad, that I’m too weak to take control of all this without Zayn. And I need to get rid of my dad as soon as possible.”

Louis scoffed. “Why not just bag that fucker up and drop him off a bridge?”

“Try suggesting that to Harry,” Liam replied.

Louis laughed to himself. “Ever the saint, him.”

His smile was soft and private, so much so that Liam felt as though he were intruding. He looked away. “I couldn’t do it by myself,” Liam said. “He’s stronger than I am, my dad.”

“I doubt that,” Louis said. “He’s drunk half the time, isn’t he?”

Unaccustomed to discussing his family with others, Liam felt a twinge of long-forgotten defensiveness. It was gone just as quickly as it appeared. He laughed, bitterly. “All the time.”

“And it’s not like your mum wants him around. So he’s got no pack to speak of, and he can’t stand on his own two feet. How does that make him stronger?” Louis took another drag on his cigarette, brows arched high.

Liam just looked at him. “Harry said…”

“Harry’s always going to go with the nobler of options. He wants you to get Zayn back because that’s what’s best for you. He’s right that it’ll make you stronger. And that’s cute and all, but you don’t _need_ Zayn to do this. Your dad’s weak enough already. You just need to believe that. Drag his ass out of your house and tell him not to come back,” Louis said. He tossed his cigarette to the ground. “You make this more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Drag my crazy dad out of the house by myself?” Liam watched him grind the cigarette into the ground with his heel.

“No one said you have to do it by yourself,” Louis said, meeting his gaze. “Harry would help. And I think others would too if you asked.”

“Help _me_?”

Louis shrugged. “You’re not the worst. As of late.”

Liam cringed. “Don’t be nice to me. It’s weird,” he said, softening his pitch to mimic Louis’.

Louis rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wall. “Talk to Harry. Zayn will come around eventually, I’m sure. But don’t sit on your ass waiting until he does.”

Liam shoved his hands into his pockets. “Tell him I said hi?”

Louis snorted. “That’s how to win him definitely,” he said. And then with a toss of his fringe, “Tell Harry I said so too.”

+

**22 April 2018**

“Louis said that?” Harry questioned, eyes narrowed skeptically.

Liam took another bite of his hotdog. “He also said hi.”

Harry’s brows furrowed. “Huh?”

“He told me to tell you he said hi,” Liam mumbled with his mouth full.

Harry stared at him, and slowly but surely, his ears and neck darkened to pink. “Why would he say that to you?”

“Same reason he gave me advice about my dad. He’s not so bad, you know,” Liam said, licking ketchup off his thumb.

Harry looked down at his hands, folded in his lap. “He’s perfect…”

“Wouldn’t go that far but sure.”

Harry didn’t respond. He was doing the dopey, day-dreaming thing again.

“You’re both ridiculous,” Liam said.

Harry rested his head to the table, curly hair spilling this way and that. “We’re all ridiculous.”

“Are you going to eat your hotdog, mate?”

Harry turned his head and pressed his forehead to the table in lieu of an answer. Liam took his hotdog. “I think,” he said. “This is all a lot simpler than we’ve made it out to be. All of it. Even you and Louis. I think being young means you fuck things up a lot more than necessary and then you try to fix it in the most complicated way you can. But it doesn’t have to be like that.”

“When did everyone get so wise?” Harry grumbled.

“When we had to,” Liam said sagely.

“Shut up,” Harry groaned.

“Want me to tell you what happened with Louis and Cory? Louis told me all about it.”

Harry lifted his head and sighed. “Fine.”

“Cory apologized. He explained everything. And cried. Louis said he already knew,” Liam said. “And that was it. Basically, you were right.”

“I knew I was right,” Harry said. “I told you, it’s not about Cory. He knows that too.”

Liam shrugged. “Think you just need to give him a lot of time. If you can wait.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Harry said. “He’s it for me.”

“Good. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” Liam dipped his hotdog in a blot of ketchup, instead of taking the time to squirt the ketchup on. It was his best idea yet. But this next one was even better. He took a bite of the hotdog and said, “Now listen to my plan…”

+

**23 April 2018**

Monday, around lunch time, Liam went to see Jay.

Louis ensured it was the best time, considering his mum worked nights on Monday and would likely been in all day allowing enough time to leave Liam and their mum to face off across the threshold. Jay looked at him like he was that scum that got caked on around sink drains, the stuff you had to pour all kinds of shit on to remove. She was seconds away from fetching her gloves and the bleach now.

"What are you doing here, Liam?" she asked. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

"Half-day. I should be at work technically,” he said. “I was wondering if I could come in for a bit.”

"Zayn's in school. And even if he wasn’t, I wouldn't want you speaking with him."

"I get that,” Liam said. “I came to speak with you actually."

Jay stared at him, face impassive. “You can speak to me where you are now.”

It didn’t surprise him that she wouldn’t let him in. But it hurt anyway. There was once a time he’d been allowed to spend nights. He’d been allowed to play footie in the backyard with Zayn’s siblings. And now all he had to work with was their tiny front step. His fault though, not hers. “Okay,” he said.

Jay had a face of stone, but Liam had seen her laugh enough times to know it wasn’t all true. She loved and protected fiercely, and there was simply a part of her that believed Liam (and all alphas really) were the ones her children needed protecting from. And she’d been right.

And so Liam started with “I’m sorry” and began, humbly, to explain.

+

**25 April 2018**

These days, he only went home when his mum was there. Any other time outside of school was spent in his car. He attempted homework there and took naps there. For a few hours before his mum headed home, he found a spot to park and he stayed for as long as he could.

That afternoon, he parked in some shopping center, reclined the driver’s seat, and determined to get at least ten minutes to shut off his brain. His eyes slipped shut but barely any time passed before someone knocked on the window.

Liam could smell him before he opened his eyes.

Sitting forward, he unlocked the door quickly and Zayn climbed inside.

“You talked to my mum,” he said without greeting.

“I did.”

Zayn looked at him for two full seconds. “You’re really serious then?”

Liam huffed a nervous laugh. “You thought I was joking?”

“I don’t know. I thought—” Zayn trailed off, biting his bottom lip. He pushed his hair away from his face.

“How did you find me?” Liam asked.

“Louis. Which makes no sense to me at all. You two are friends now?”

“Not quite.”

Zayn chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t get this. I don’t get what you’re doing.”

“I can explain it to you,” Liam said. He gripped the steering wheel loosely, needing something to hold onto. Otherwise he might reach out for Zayn. And he didn’t have that right just yet. Gently, he said, “I love you. That’s why I do most things. Because I love you. But also because I’m selfish, and dumb sometimes too.”

“You’re not dumb,” Zayn mumbled.

Liam smiled. “Maybe a little bit?”

Zayn didn’t look at him. “Maybe.”

“I never meant to hurt you,” Liam said quietly.

“Yeah, you did. Don’t lie to me,” Zayn said. “You meant to push me away.”

“Okay, yes. But it was more like, I hurt you now so I don’t hurt you worse in the future. Or get you hurt.”

“You know how idiotic that sounds?”

Liam shrugged. “I guess I do now, yeah.”

Zayn shook his head, directing his gaze through the windscreen.

“You’re hurt?” Liam asked. They both knew he didn’t mean emotionally.

Zayn glanced at his knee. “Just scraped my knee during practice. It’s fine.”

Liam would still lick the wound if he thought Zayn would let him. He squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter, searching for words.

“I’m headed to Leeds for uni,” Zayn said.

They looked at each other. He shrugged. “I got into the University of Bath and Manchester too. But Leeds has some of the best Biology professors.”

“I remember you saying so,” Liam replied.

Zayn nodded. He swallowed visibly. “I won’t be too far from Louis either. He’s going to ManU to play football.”

“I think Harry was leaning towards Manchester too. Good news for them,” Liam murmured.

Zayn lifted his brows. “You know something I don’t?”

“No,” Liam said. “I don’t think so. But it’s Harry and Louis. I think they’ll figure things out eventually. They’re crazy about each other.”

“I thought you didn’t even like them together,” Zayn said with a disbelieving laugh.

“I’ve been wrong about a lot of things,” Liam answered. “Congrats on uni. I’m proud of you.”

Zayn’s lips twitched. He looked at his hands again. A soft buzzing sound filled the car and he leaned forward, digging around in his rucksack for his phone. His hands froze, head craning further forward, eyes peering beneath the seat.

The second he reached out was the same second Liam remembered his gift from Renaldo, wrapped in a pillowcase, which he’d tucked there for safe-keeping.

“Think you left something under here,” Zayn murmured.

“No—” Liam began.

But Zayn was already touching it, feeling the cool metal through the cotton fabric, feeling the undeniable shape of a gun. He pulled the pillowcase from under the seat, jammed his hand inside, and his eyes widened.

He didn’t draw it into the open. He looked around through the car windows but they were far enough away from the other cars that no one would see them. Then he looked at Liam.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, all in one breath.

“Ian’s alpha,” Liam said. “It’s not what you think.”

“What am I thinking?” Zayn asked, voice scalding.

Liam licked his lips. “That I’m planning to use it on my dad.”

“Is that not what it’s for?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t planning to. I don’t want to.”

Zayn shook his head and Liam sighed. He was really sick of people looking at him that way, like just by breathing, he was disappointing them. Zayn, especially. He was really fucking sick of disappointing Zayn.

“That isn’t what I was thinking,” Zayn said. “You wouldn’t kill anyone. You’re not that person. But you’d probably get caught with it and then they’d send you off to fucking Alysebury.”

Liam scoffed. “I doubt it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t know _anything_ ,” Liam said. “I thought that would be obvious to you by now. To you of all people. I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

Zayn sat quietly in his seat, just looking at him, eyes wide and bright. Liam rested his forehead in his palm, remembering how determined he’d been for sleep, how much he’d needed it.

Zayn pulled the gun free of the pillowcase.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked, looking through the windows.

Zayn ignored him. He inspected the gun, positioned his hands around the body particularly, and popped the cartridge free. He checked that the chamber wasn’t loaded and stuffed the dismembered weapon back into the pillowcase.

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“Those crime shows Louis watches sometimes,” Zayn said. He tucked the pillowcase away in his backpack. “Let’s drive.”

Liam studied him unsurely. “To where?”

“I’ll figure it out when you start driving,” Zayn said.

Liam hesitated. His fingers lingered on the key in the ignition. Zayn looked at him expectantly and with a sigh, Liam started the engine and pulled off.

+

They took the thirty minute drive and ended up at the reservoir, leaning against the car with their gazes cast over the water. It was silent for the first five minutes and Liam glanced constantly in Zayn’s direction but never met his eyes.

After that, Zayn spoke. “I had a lot of dreams about you being dead. I think it was my mind’s way of coping with you leaving me. For omegas who lose their alphas like that, I figured it must feel the same. If I couldn’t have you, and if I didn’t know where you were, it was as if you were dead.

“So I was learning to bury you. I don’t know if I was making progress with that but I was trying. And now there’s this.”

“I’m sorry,” Liam began, voice breaking.

“Stop apologizing,” Zayn said. “I’m not finished.”

Liam waited.

“I refused to talk to Louis about anything. Because he never liked you and I thought he would rub it in my face, how easy it’d been for you to turn against me—”

“I didn’t—”

“I’m not finished, Liam,” Zayn repeated, looking at him. His eyes were unkind and shiny as they’d been earlier. He gave Liam a second and then he continued. “I opened up to him eventually, though. And it made some things clear to me. He was right, years ago: You weren’t good for me. When we first met, I knew that too.”

Liam kept his mouth shut. He had this all coming. He deserved this.

“And Louis was right that I thought I could fix you or something. I wanted you to be better because I saw the good parts of you too. But that wasn't right,” Zayn said. “It wasn’t right to be with someone to fix them. I think I’ve always treated you that way. Like you could be fixed. Like I could fix you. I asked you to trust me when I found out about your dad but I don’t think I ever really trusted you. You wanted to keep me safe. You wanted to handle it yourself, which is your right, because it’s a family matter, and we both know I wouldn’t have listened to you. Because I didn’t trust you to fix it yourself. And I’m sorry for that. I really am.”

“I haven’t fixed anything,” Liam said.

“You can, though,” Zayn replied. He lifted the pillowcase in his hand. “And not with this.”

And with that, he tossed the pillowcase and the contents inside over the railing. It spun down, down, down until it hit the water with the splash. They watched it sink below the murky surface and then it was gone.

“What if I told you I paid 500 quid for that?” Liam asked.

Zayn looked at him, eyes wide. “Did you?”

“No,” Liam said, smiling. “It was a gift.”

Zayn’s lips twitched. “Fuck,” he breathed, shaking his head. He couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. Liam watched him, smiling growing, and growing, until he was laughing too.

The fading sun got caught in Zayn’s irises and the strands of his hair. He glowed and the soft breeze drifting off the water carried his scent strongly toward Liam. it was too much. After not hearing him laugh in months, not being this close, Liam was overwhelmed.

"You're so beautiful,” he said.

Zayn’s laughter trickled off but the smile was still there, faintly. He cast his eyes down at his shoes. "Shut up," he mumbled.

"No, really,” Liam said. “Especially when you laugh. I haven't seen that in so long."

"Yeah, well, that's not my fault,” Zayn said. The smile left completely.

"No, it's mine,” Liam said. “I'm still hoping you'll forgive me for that."

Zayn bit his bottom lip. He took a step away, closer to the car than the rail.

"Please tell me what I have to do to make this better,” Liam said.

Zayn shrugged his shoulder. "I can't. Because I don't know."

"Tell me how you're feeling then,” Liam tried. He felt like he’d been tossed over the rail himself, trying to make his way through murky water and having no luck. “Just talk to me. Give me something."

"I don't know how I'm feeling, Liam. I'm confused."

"Because you're feeling multiple things at once?"

"Sure," Zayn said.

"So then name one thing you're feeling right now."

"Confused," Zayn said flatly.

Liam sighed. "How about another?"

Zayn shook his head. His eyes flickered left, then right. "Sad?"

Liam nodded. "Keep going."

Zayn exhaled. "Lonely. Angry. Frustrated. Happy, kind of."

"I like the last one,” Liam said with a small smile.

"I do too,” Zayn agreed. “But it's not enough. ‘Cause I also feel scared. That's the worst one. I hate feeling like that. I hate feeling scared of _you_. That was never the case, even when you were being a dick to everyone else. Even when you got into your moods and stayed away for a bit. I knew you'd come back. You always did."

"I always do,” Liam said.

"But you didn't. You were gone long enough that I thought you were gone for good. And now I can't stop thinking that you'll go again," Zayn said. "And I can't put myself through that again, Liam. I won’t."

"I'm not going anywhere," Liam said.

"But I don't _know_ that,” Zayn said emphatically, voice breaking. “There's no way to know that for sure. And that scares the shit out of me."

If nothing else that hurt Liam the most. Because omegas shouldn't have to fear their alphas. It shouldn't be like that. He never wanted that to be the case for them. What it came down to, though, was that Zayn couldn’t trust him now. He might never trust him again.

“I used to be scared too,” Liam said. “That I’d end up like my dad. That I'd end up hurting you… which I did. But _only_ because I was scared. And I’m not anymore. I'm different."

"I can see that," Zayn said.

"Just give me a chance to prove it to you."

Zayn turned away from Liam and lifted the hem of his uniform shirt to cover his face. He stayed like that for a while and if not for the pink of his ears, Liam wouldn’t have been able to tell he cried.

When Zayn turned back to him, his eyes were somewhat damp. He sighed heavily. "I'm so fucking tired."

"I know," Liam said.

"And I miss you so much."

Liam hesitated. "I miss you too,” he said quietly. “I miss talking to you. I miss making you laugh. I miss touching you…"

Zayn tried to hide the light flush across his cheekbones by looking away.

Liam took a cautious step closer. “I dream every single night about touching you,” he said. “Sometimes I wake up afterwards thinking you’re still beside me, and you never are.”

“Not my fault,” Zayn said again, quietly this time. The flush had spread to his ears. His scent was stronger now. He no longer needed the wind to carry it Liam’s way.

“No, mine.” Liam nodded. “So let me fix it. Let me make it up to you.”

He was closer to Zayn now than he had been in months, and the awareness of that was heady and jarring. He no longer had a right to this space, that was true. But Zayn let him have it anyway. He didn’t push him away. He didn’t protest. And Liam took small favors wherever he could find them.

He needed one deep inhale with his nose to Zayn’s skin. He needed to breathe him in and his lungs would work properly again. His heart would beat like normal. He’d gone too long without it, and it was as if his whole body was shutting down. His proximity now was enough to fuel him for another season.

Zayn reacted to Liam scenting him the way he always did.

He should have been prepared for it but the smell of slick nearly knocked Liam out cold. Weakly, he rested his forehead against Zayn’s.

“Tell me to stop,” Liam said.

Zayn shook his head. He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want you to.”

They hovered, stuck in the pull of the each other's gravity. Slowly, Zayn set his head against Liam's chest and inhaled, exhaled, breath shaking. Liam lifted his hands to his hips and cradled them between his palms. Their arms slipped around each other and held tight. It came easily. It came from the product of muscle memory and need. Once he had him like this, it was hard not to want more. It was hard to be this close and pull away.

But Liam pulled away, hands shaking from restraint. He squeezed them into fists. Zayn watched him with fully disclosed frustration.

“I’m sorry,” Liam said. “I don’t— This isn’t what I’m after. It’s not about touching you.”

“It’s not?” Zayn asked, tugging his shirt down over his crotch.

“Not until you’re ready. Like actually ready. Like until you forgive me, trust me again.”

Zayn’s responding laugh was condescending. He swept his hair away from his forehead. “When did you get to be so noble?”

“It’s taking a lot, believe me,” Liam said.

Zayn watched him. _I can see that,_ he'd said. It'd taken a lot to get Liam here now. A lot of changes. A gain here and a loss there. But it'd all happened and Zayn could see that.

"I need time to think," he said.

"However much you need, it’s yours,” Liam said. “I’d wait forever.”

They studied each other. Zayn slipped his hands into his pockets. “In the meantime, there's the problem of your dad. But you’ll figure it out. I know you will,” he said. “I believe that.”

Liam's smile was genuine, more so than it had been for months, perhaps even years. "That's all I really need."


	19. Chapter 19

**2 May 2018**

“Why would I want to help Liam with _anything_?” Niall asked, his arms stretched over the back of his living room couch, giving off the appearance he felt cool and collected but then why did the air feel so tense?

Harry thought about the moment they met. How Niall had carried on from the start as if they were the longest and the best of friends. And yet, he had a cautious set to his gaze now, as if he hardly knew Harry, a look so telling of an alpha who felt threatened.

And Harry really despised the testosterone-laden logic of his kind.

 _Obviously_ , he wasn’t the enemy here.

Even so, he jammed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders a bit, trying to make himself seem smaller. “It’s not for him, like I keep saying. You’d be doing it for me… and for Zayn.”

At the mention of his name, Niall’s eyes narrowed. And Harry backpedalled.

“Mostly for me,” he said.

“You haven’t even been around, Harry,” Niall said, his bottom lip sort of jutted out. Now he just looked hurt. The emotional card-shuffling was giving Harry whiplash. “Spending all your time with Liam these days. I hardly even see you.”

Harry scrubbed his face with his palms. “I know. I’m sorry. Things have been tough recently. It’s helped to throw myself into this.”

“Because of Louis, you mean?”

Harry’s stomach pulled a nosedive. “Yes.”

“But you don’t even like Liam,” Niall said. “Up until a month ago, you hated his guts.”

“Whether or not you like a person doesn’t matter if they’re in trouble, does it? And people change.”

“Yeah, but sometimes they don’t. You’re going to help him with this and in a month, he’ll be the same selfish prick he was before.”

“I don’t think so,” Harry said. “I’m not saying I want to be his best friend. But I think he’s not such a bad person. He’s an onion, you know? Lots of layers.”

Niall groaned. “This is a bloody nightmare.”

“Listen, please,” Harry said, taking a seat on the couch beside him. “His dad is dangerous for everyone as long as he’s around. Especially Zayn. And I know you care about him, so do it for him, at least.”

“That's a low blow,” Niall muttered.

“I know. But you’re not leaving me much choice,” Harry said. “Come on, Niall.”

He could look into Niall’s eyes and see he had him. He’d had him from the start, really. Niall was a lot of things, but never heartless.

“There’s no way my brother’s going along with this,” Niall said.

As it turned out, Greg loved a fight wherever he could find one. Hating Liam wasn't enough to keep him out of the fray. He physically jumped at the opportunity to toss George Payne off a bridge if necessary.

“We’re not doing that,” Harry clarified. “You don’t get to hurt him…”

“Then what’s the point?” Greg asked.

“You’re offering support. You’re backup in case things get crazy. But we’re hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

“How cute. You’re hoping he’ll just leave quietly?” Greg said with a vaguely sympathetic smile.

“No, but once he sees he’s outnumbered—”

“He’ll get angry and fight back,” Greg finished for him.

Harry sighed. He wasn’t cut out for this. Greg looked unconvinced. Niall looked like he wanted to take a nap. And Harry was willing to bet he looked a combination of both.

All aside, Operation “Get Him the Fuck Out of Here” was a go.

+

**4 May 2018**

“This is too awkward.”

That was Louis, seated beside Niall at their lunch table who sat beside Harry across from Zayn and Liam.

And Harry couldn't help himself; he smiled. Because everyone was thinking it. Louis was just the only one bold enough to say it first.

“I can't enjoy my lunch like this,” Louis went on. “Look at us trying to eat together like one happy family when Niall and Liam ‘ave been glaring at each other for the last five minutes and the rest of us aren’t looking at each other at all.”

He said the last part accusingly.

“Whose fault is that?” Harry mumbled.

“Never said it was yours,” Louis said, glancing fleetingly at him. “My point is that this is awkward as fuck and I’m not going to pretend it isn't.”

Everyone was quiet afterwards. Zayn folded his hands together on the table and said quietly, “I happen to be friends with everyone sat here, so-- I’ve got no complaints.”

Louis looked at him with wide eyes. “No, of course not. Because you don't realize how much it must fucking suck for Niall here to watch you two figure yourselves out,” he said waving between Zayn and Liam. “I mean, I think it's great that you aren't crying over each other anymore. Really, I do.” He set a hand on Niall's shoulder briefly. “But have a heart.”

“Louis—” Niall began.

“I'm just being honest,” Louis said, dropping his hand. “I'm the only one here willing to speak the truth.”

Liam laughed. “That's rich. I bet Harry would disagree.”

“Can everyone just stop?” Harry asked.

And surprisingly everyone listened.

“No one has to sit here if they don't want to,” Harry said. “You don't have to be comfortable either. But you can either just deal with it and not be a dick or you can leave.”

“We were here first,” Niall said. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Zayn looked at him. Niall looked right back, folding his arms across his chest.

“Alright,” Zayn said. He stood up. “Since I'm making everyone uncomfortable--”

“No one said that,” Louis groaned.

“Since _we’re_ making everyone uncomfortable,” Zayn clarified, gesturing between himself and Liam. “I'll go.”

“Think you should too,” Niall said to Liam with a shrug. “It's the loyal thing to do, if you know anything about that...”

“Stop being a dick,” Zayn said to Niall, gathering his lunch. “Doesn’t suit you.”

Niall didn't have a response to that. It was true anyway. And an odd sort of compliment. Liam collected his apple off the table and followed Zayn out of the canteen.

“That was all a bit unnecessary,” Harry commented.

“I disagree,” Louis said.

“Because you're committed to speaking the truth,” Harry said.

Louis looked at him. “This isn't about me and you, Harry.”

“Never said it was,” Harry said, and at the same time, his heart skipped a beat or two because it was the first time Louis had addressed him by name in weeks.

Louis stood, grabbing his bagged lunch, and then he was gone too, leaving Niall and Harry and poor Tyler who had no clue what was happening.

Harry dropped his forehead on the table. “Is this school year over yet?”

Niall sighed. “We’re getting there.”

+

**5 May 2018**

It was hard to focus on the game knowing what they were planning to do the following week. Hard to focus on anything, to get out of bed with the dread weighing him down, to eat without wanting to throw it all back up, to pick up his feet on the pitch before coach yelled at him.

But Saturday’s game was their last before finals and it was the worst one to fuck up. And the score was tied with thirty minutes left.

Harry charged forward, his foot connecting with the ball first. He slid it toward Zayn, who collected it quickly and started toward the goal. Within seconds, Zayn found an opening. He swung his leg forward, the ball went flying and it was in.

The people in the stands roared. Harry was drawn into a hug with a few of his teammates and saw Louis hovering close by. He might’ve smiled. It was hard to tell.

On the sidelines minutes later, he had a chance to take a breath and a sip of water. They were ahead but the course of the game could change at any moment and the other team was desperate. Harry watched as big, burly Albert Johansen rushed down the field and Louis was right in his path. The other defenders were tied up against their own opponents. And Louis was wide open with this mountain of an alpha charging at him.

Harry stood up. His vision was blocked by a smear of players for just an instant. Every hair on his body stood tall when he heard the shout. _Louis_ . Everyone on the field froze. _Louis Louis Louis._ The ref blew his whistle and Harry was off, pushing through the other players to the centre of their circle.

Louis was on the ground, his face twisted in pain.

Coach Winston touched his ankle and Louis’ face crumbled, his bottom lip bitten hard. A different person might’ve cried. Harry wanted to yell, “Don’t touch him!” or pounce on the coach’s back and drag him away with his teeth.

“Alright,” Coach said. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,”

“I’ve got him.” Harry’s voice was all terse and gruff and he’d be annoyed with himself and his excessive testosterone output under different circumstances.

Coach looked ready to protest but Harry was already moving in. He almost said the word “mine” but resisted, bent down without further explanation or discussion, and scooped Louis up.

Louis’ head lolled against his shoulder. “Bit dramatic, Styles,” he mumbled quietly.

Harry ignored him but felt inappropriately warmed by Louis saying his name again. Except better this time. _Styles._

Harry started off toward the locker rooms, ensuring his arms were secured beneath Louis, though he didn’t feel very heavy at all.

Coach got the door for them. “I’ll be there in a second. Get some ice on it if you can."

“Got it,” Harry called back. He trudged through the locker room and into the eerie hallway. Louis was adamantly quiet, his eyes shifted away from Harry.

“Could you get the doorknob?” Harry asked when they came to the infirmary. Louis twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Harry stepped inside, angling them carefully. He set Louis down on the counter and Louis shifted around until he was more comfortable.

“I’ll get some ice,” Harry said.

The fridge was just off to the side by the window and the freezer was stocked mostly with ice packs. He pulled one out, wrapped it in paper towel and handed it to Louis.

“Do you need me to—?” He didn’t know what he was even asking.

“No,” Louis said. He propped his leg up gingerly and pressed the ice pack to his ankle, hissing when it met his skin. “Worst fucking timing for this…”

“Should heal up before finals,” Harry said. It was a sprain, not a fracture, at least.

“Hopefully,” Louis muttered. He glanced at him. “Thank you for carrying me over here.”

“Sure,” Harry said.

Coach Winston stepped into the room. He withdrew a key from his pocket and went over to one of the cabinets. He pulled out a bottle of paracetamol, Harry guessed. “Why don’t you take one of these? Should we call your mum to pick you up?”

“I can take him,” Harry said.

After a second, Louis shrugged. “He can take me,” he echoed.

“This is an important game,” Coach said. “I can’t have you both sit it out.”

Until recently, Harry wouldn’t have been in the game in the first place. No one missed a benchwarmer if they couldn’t show up. But he was indispensable now. Somehow. And that was incredible, but his brain was still going _LouisLouisLouis_ and hardly anything else mattered.

“I’ll wait,” Louis said. He looked at Harry. “I’ll wait for you to come back, so go play.”

Harry stared at him a second too long until Louis had to look away.

“Are you two finished?” Coach asked.

“I said I’d wait,” Louis repeated.

“Suit yourself. Styles, be back on the pitch in five.”

Harry waited until they were alone. “This is stupid. I should take you home now.” He filled a paper cup with water and handed it to Louis.

“Thank you,” Louis said. He took the pill and emptied the cup of water. Harry disposed of it. “I’ve got ice on it. I’m fine for now, but they need you out there.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t really care.”

Louis looked at him. “You’re being _such_ an alpha right now.”

“Yeah, well—” Harry shrugged. “I am what I am.”

Louis’ lips twitched. “Go,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Can’t really go anywhere…” Harry reminded him.

Louis narrowed his eyes, but his smile grew. Harry traced the curve of it with his gaze. “Get out of here, Harry.”

Harry took a step back. “See you afterwards,” he said. And then he went back to the game.

They could have done without him. He didn’t play his best, too anxious about Louis or pissed off at Johansen. They won but it was no thanks to him. He skipped their celebratory team huddle and hurried back inside the school and into the infirmary.

Louis sat on the counter with his head bowed, holding the ice pack against his injured ankle. He must have heard the squeak of Harry’s trainers on the linoleum and turned to face him. Harry hoped there was a day when he wasn’t immediately thrown by how beautiful Louis was whenever he did that. Whenever his eyes landed on him. Like the sun striking the sky at dawn.

“Did we win?” Louis asked.

“We did,” Harry said. “How’s your ankle?”

“Hurts still,” Louis said, swinging his foot down carefully off the counter.

“Can I?” Harry asked, reaching towards his foot. With Louis’ nod of approval, Harry lifted his foot carefully. “Might feel better without the sock on,” he said.

“It might.”

Harry reached for the top of Louis’ knee-high, cradling his calf in his hand. He started folding the sock down, his eyes moving down Louis’ leg, picturing them both wrapped around his waist for one self-indulgent second. Wrong place, wrong time, but he thought about it anyway. In hindsight, it was hard to believe that they’d ever been that close, that he’d ever been allowed to touch Louis in that way. That he’d been with Louis and in Louis and—

Harry released a quiet breath. He removed Louis’ shin guard too and then set everything aside and lowered Louis’ leg gently.

“Better?” he asked.

Louis nodded again. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“Sure.” Harry swallowed, gaze darting to Louis’ mouth. “Um—”

Louis lifted his brows.

“I should get you home now,” Harry said. “I’ve got my mum’s car—”

“I figured,” Louis said. “Unless you were planning to carry me all the way home.”

“I would.”

Louis licked his lips. “I don’t doubt that.”

Harry stepped a bit closer and Louis’ gaze was suddenly alert. Harry tilted his head. “You’ve got—” He touched his thumb to his own chin. “Bit of blood right there.”

Louis lifted his hand and gently touched his chin, wincing. He rolled his eyes. Showed Harry his elbow. “Here too.”

“Hang on.” Harry stepped away. He rummaged around in a few cupboards and drawers. He found antiseptic, bandages and cotton pads, and returned to Louis. “Alright—”

“Should call you Nurse Styles.”

Harry smiled. “This school is shit. There should be an actual nurse in here.”

“You’ll do,” Louis said and Harry’s gaze flickered to meet his. Louis winced again when Harry dabbed at the scrape on his elbow, before slapping a bandage over it.

“Tilt your chin up a bit,” Harry said, taking another step closer. He touched Louis’ chin gently and with the other hand, reached forward with the cotton. Harry took his time cleaning the wound, his movements slow as not to hurt him. He didn’t meet his gaze again. They were too close and it would have been too much. It was already too much. The feeling of his skin beneath Harry’s fingertips. The smell of him rising into the space between them. Harry exhaled quietly and slowly and set the cotton down.

He started to drop his other hand too, but Louis lifted his own and touched his fingers to the back of Harry’s hand.

Harry’s heartbeat slowed or perhaps it spiked or maybe it stopped altogether.

Louis tilted his head, pressing his cheek into Harry’s palm.

“Louis—”

“Harry,” Louis said, looking at him. Harry teetered forward. Louis did too, his hand leaving Harry’s, fingers curling up in his jersey.

And then Louis kissed him right on the mouth.

There was a sharp intake of breath, a complaintive moan — all on Harry’s part. But he didn’t draw away or resist at all. There was no part of him that wanted to. He parted his lips and let Louis’ tongue brush his own.

Louis snaked his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him even closer, his uninjured ankle curling around the back of Harry’s knee. He whined in a way that he’d probably regret later, that Harry would definitely wank to later.

Harry got carried away. But he blamed it on being an alpha, on the need to stake claim and mark territory. His hands ended up on Louis’ bum and his mouth on Louis’ neck. Louis’ scent attached itself to the air, strong and inviting, pleading.

He got carried far, far away. Let Louis push his fingers beneath his jersey. Let him work a bruise into his collarbone. And be it divine intervention or self-preservation, something clicked on right as Louis slipped his fingers beneath Harry’s waistband.

“Louis,” Harry said. “Wait—”

“Why?” Louis didn’t really stop to pose the question.

“Can we just—?” Harry took both of his wrists, drawing his one hand out of his shorts. “Louis, _stop_.”

Louis pulled his hands out of Harry’s grip completely and released a heavy breath. He pushed Harry back as he scampered down from the counter, favouring his injured ankle. “One minute you’re devoting your whole life to me and the next minute you’re pushing me away. You should really pick one thing and stick with it.”

Harry snorted in shock. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So what if I am?” Louis fired back. “At least I’ve got myself sorted. I’m not the easiest person to deal with, but I’m me.”

“Who you are was never the issue, was it?”

“No, the issue is you complicating things when they were fine the way they were. You make everything so bloody complicated.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Harry asked, right before it clicked. “ Is this because I said I love you?”

“It’s because you want _too much_. You want us to sit and talk about our feelings. And you want me to be in love with you. You want me to trust you when there’s some red-headed twat after you—”

“For fuck’s sake. Nothing happened with Cory.”

“I fucking know that! That’s not the point,” Louis said. “You want me to give everything to you. You want everything, but this is what I’ve got. This is what I am.”

Harry sort of collapsed against the opposing wall, suddenly feeling so worn out. “I don’t understand what you want, Louis.”

“I want _you_. That’s it.”

And for a second, those words pinged all around Harry’s head like a champagne cork ricocheting about a room. But it was never that easy with Louis. It couldn't be.

“You want me how?” Harry asked.

“This is _exactly_ what I’m bloody talking about! You’re overcomplicating it.”

Harry wanted to laugh. “Because I love you? Are you saying you want someone who doesn’t love you? Someone you don’t have to trust? Someone you don’t have to put your heart on the line for, yeah? That’s complete bullshit and you know it. I’m not that person and neither are you. But if you're insistent, I bet Ralph’s still up for it.”

“You’re not being fair.”

“You’re _never_ fair,” Harry said, and then they were silent. Louis’ jaw locked and they stared at each other, the air crackling like frayed wire.

“I need to get you home,” Harry said, laconically, pushing himself off the wall.

“I can get myself home.”

“Louis. Let me take you home.”

Louis’ eyes widened. “Was that a _command_?”

“No. That's not— I didn't mean to,” Harry said, covering his face with his hands. He hadn't intended for his tone to be so…authoritative. He didn’t even know how he’d done it, but so much of Harry’s progress as a burgeoning alpha had been achieved accidentally. “I’m sorry. Please, let me take you home. If I don't see you home, I probably won't sleep.”

Louis crossed his arms over his chest, looking towards the door. “Fine.”

“I’m going to carry you out of here, okay?”

Louis lifted his bag off the floor. “Whatever.”

They were beyond fucked up. Irreparable, even. Two pillars refusing to budge.

Harry sighed. He put his back to Louis and bent down a little. “Come on.”

Louis set his hand on Harry’s shoulder and climbed onto his back, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck. Harry secured his hands beneath Louis’ thighs. “Hold tight.”

Louis didn’t respond, but did as told. Harry started through the building, back to the front doors. The bleachers would have cleared out by now and Niall would be sitting in the car, tapping his foot impatiently. But Harry had to walk slowly, careful not to jostle Louis too much.

They didn’t speak again. Louis’ body was hot, almost feverishly so, and his scent strong. Harry faltered when he felt Louis’ head against his shoulder, but if he stopped, Louis would too. And Harry would let himself have this.

+

**11 May 2018**

They had all these plans constructed and all the exact parameters forged. The how and the where and the what if— they'd mentally exhausted it all. But planning couldn't account for the human condition — for fear and anger. And that was what kept Harry up at night. He wouldn't say it to anyone but sometimes he didn’t think they were prepared at all.

Liam looked at everyone gathered on the floor in Louis’ basement, an odd assortment of folks. Greg and Niall. Harry. One of the boys from the team named Ethan. Ralph, shockingly.

Louis and Zayn were there too, although only Zayn was tagging along, and only to keep the car running in case something went wrong.

“Thank you all again for doing this,” Liam said. “No one gets hurt. If he tries, I want everyone to leave.”

“I still don’t get what the point is if we aren’t kicking his arse,” Greg said.

“We’re back up,” Harry said, monotonously. It was a bit lit for Greg to be needing clarification, especially on something Harry had repeated at least ten times. “We’ll be there to show him he’s outnumbered and that Liam is the strongest alpha now. I don’t think he’ll try anything knowing it’s a losing battle, right?”

“Right,” Liam confirmed, but looked horribly unsure.

Louis scoffed. “Alright, well, I didn’t bring my bat to let your dad kick your arse. If he tries, he’s getting a swing in the face.”

Harry didn’t know whether to be endeared or alarmed. Niall spoke up so he wouldn’t have to.

“Lou, you just sprained your ankle a few days ago. It’s probably best that you stay here.”

“I’m going,” Louis said, and then he shot a pointed look at Harry as if daring him to protest.

“Let’s stick to the plan,” Liam said. “Louis, if you’re coming, you stay in the car. No baseball bats. We get in, we get out, yeah?”

There was a mumble of accord about the room.

“Alright,” Liam said, pushing away from the wall. “Let’s go.”

Harry started up the stairs behind Niall.

“Harry.”

He halted, turned back. Louis stood there behind him, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“What is it?” Harry asked. “We don’t really have time.”

He wasn't fooling anyone. He was never too busy to talk to Louis. His schedule could never be full enough to not allow time for him. He dismounted the first step and waited.

The room was empty now and the silence somehow more stifling than before.

“Don't go in there trying to be a hero.”

“That’s unlikely,” Harry said, ducking his head. He kicked at the floor with the heel of his shoe. “Please stay in the car,” he mumbled.

Louis sighed. “I can’t go anywhere with my leg messed up, so. Not much choice there.”

Harry didn't buy that. “There’s no sense in you coming then.”

“I’m not staying here while you all go off to war,” Louis said. “It’s not happening.”

Harry scrubbed at his eyelids with his palms. “Are we done?”

Louis stood there, his body sort of curved inward protectively. It reminded Harry of the day they got stuck together as partners, probably the best day of Harry’s life now that he thought of it.

“I guess so,” Louis said.

Harry turned away before he hugged him or something and took the first step quickly.

Minutes later, they were sat beside each other in the car. Louis kept his gaze directed through the window, chewing his thumbnail. Harry regretted more than ever that he couldn’t reach out and take Louis’ hand to settle both their nerves.

Liam sat tensely in the backseat with Zayn curled beneath his arm. He met eyes with Harry through the rearview mirror and Harry gave him something of a smile, trying and failing to be reassuring.

The time passed too quickly. Harry pulled up to the kerb behind Greg’s car and killed the headlights. Liam and Zayn kissed for about a minute too long and the silence stretched on painfully. Liam reached for the door handle and stepped out.

“Please be careful,” Louis said, still not looking at him.

Harry climbed out of the car, failing to find anything to say. He shut the door and watched Zayn climb into the driver’s seat. He pretended not to see Louis reach into the backseat for his baseball bat and rest it in his lap.

What if George had a gun and peppered them all with bullets? What if this was the last time he ever set eyes on Louis Tomlinson? What if he died without knowing for sure that the love of his life loved him back? Christ. Harry dried his palms on his jeans and looked away from the car.

“Okay,” Liam said. “Let’s just go. Stay behind me, yeah?”

They all nodded and then Liam started up the walkway to his home. He unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The smell of cigarettes and beer overwhelmed them immediately. Harry couldn’t see a thing until Liam stepped further inside and there was George Payne, sprawled on the couch. He was cast in blue-white from the glow of the telly and held a bottle of beer in his left hand, the remote control in the other.

They all stepped inside, surrounding the living room like a small brigade. George looked away from the TV, his eyes moving across the boys before landing on his son.

“What’s all this?” he asked, sounding only slightly annoyed.

“These are my friends,” Liam said.

George huffed a laugh. “Didn’t know you had any.” He glanced away from the TV again and his eyes landed on Harry. His brow sank into a deep V. “I remember you.” He stuck his pointer finger in Harry’s direction.

“Harry Styles, yeah?” George lifted his brows. “Sent the police after me, didn’t you?” He laughed, then looked at Liam. “Interesting company you keep.”

Harry stayed quiet, but he was surprised to feel less scared and more annoyed.

“Afraid there’s nothing here for you boys to eat,” George said after a sip of beer. “Your mother should’ve been home by now, but—” He swung his free hand out towards the kitchen which was also dark. Grace was away because Liam had asked her to stay away. She was with a friend and wouldn’t return until Liam told her it was safe to.

“Bit late to have friends over anyhow,” George said, sinking further into the couch. He turned the volume up. “You boys should be on your way home.”

It was a command, not a suggestion.

Liam squared his shoulders. “They’re staying.” He drew a breath. “You’re leaving.”

George didn’t even look at him. “You’ll have to speak up, son. You’re an alpha, not a toddler. Best you stopped sounding like one.”

Trying to make Liam feel small was another commonly and thoroughly exhausted tactic of his. Funnily enough, it seemed George truly hadn’t heard what Liam said.

“They’re not the ones leaving,” Liam said. “You are.”

Now his father looked at him. “Pardon?”

Harry nearly laughed. That had to be the most polite thing the man had ever said.

“You have to go,” Liam said. “There’s no room for you here.”

George laughed.

He laughed and laughed until he coughed, loud and hacking like his lungs were falling apart. He coughed into his fist then dropped his hand, his smile big. “I’ve got lots of room right here. All the room I could need.” He looked at all the boys again, his nose twitching. “What is this, Liam? You brought your gang of alphas to beat me up? Too scared to do it yourself?”

Liam opened his mouth to speak and his dad cut him off again.

“Still don’t know shit about being an alpha so you needed help?”

He laughed again.

“This is embarrassing,” George said.

Liam went to the wall by the door and flipped the light switch. The room was suddenly flooded with light that overpowered the glow of the TV and nullified all those harsh, menacing lines on his father’s face. Now they could see the grease stains all over his white T-shirt and the ragged beard and the assault of angry wrinkles. He was old and weak and he couldn’t hide it with the lights on.

"You’re not an alpha,” Liam said. “It took me long enough to realise, but you’re a sad, lonely man who only knows how to hurt people. You’re weak and you can’t protect us and I doubt you ever wanted to."

“Well—” George shrugged. “You’re right about that.” He finished off the beer, but noticeably didn’t set the bottle down. “Too bad I didn’t kill you when I had the chance.”

They all stood frozen and silent, their mouths slightly agape.

“I didn’t mean to toss you against that wall when you were a kid. Scared the shit out of me, thinking I’d killed you, but I would’ve been better off if I had.” George scratched his beard. “You’re smart enough. You know I never wanted you, Liam. One night with your mum, too much beer—” He gestured in abstraction. They could figure out the rest. “There you were.”

Harry’s heart hurt like George had gotten his hand around it and squeezed. Behind him, he heard a shuffle like one of the boys had taken a step closer, like they too were ready to pummel this cruel man into the ground.

“All you did was take, take, take. Worked my arse off to support you both,” George said, his voice growing a bit louder. “Bought this fucking house. All for a kid and a life I never wanted.”

“But you’re here,” Harry said before he could stop himself. “This is the best you’ve got.”

George stuck that finger in his direction again. “You shut your mouth—”

Liam flattened his hands on the side of the old television and gave it a mighty push, shoving it right off its stand. There was a loud crash, a pop, and the screen went black. Liam’s chest rose and fell rapidly, as he turned back to his father.

George stood to his feet. “Have you lost your fucking—”

“You didn’t hear me,” Liam said, his voice louder. So loud and crisp and clear like the crash of a wave or a snap of thunder. He took a step forward. “But your hearing is probably fucked too, so I’ll explain again. This is my _mother’s_ house and I’m the only alpha she wants here, which means you’ve got to pack your shit tonight and get out. I don’t care what you think of me and I don’t care where you end up. But I'll tell you this: If you _ever_ touch Zayn again, I'll shove all of those fucking bottles down your throat until you drown."

Harry saw it coming well before George broke his bottle on the edge of the coffee table. The same instant he brandished it, Harry had a hand around Liam’s arm, yanking him back. George swung and missed, looking as wild as any cornered, outnumbered, outmatched animal would.

“Come on,” he yelled.

"Go,” Liam said to the boys. “Get out of here.”

No one moved.

Liam couldn’t take his eyes off George to look at them. “Harry,” he hissed.

“I’m staying,” Harry said. ‘This time’ was implied.

Apparently, they were all staying. Harry wouldn’t leave Liam, and Niall wouldn’t leave Harry, and so on and so forth. All the school yard politics and alliances and the dividing lines of their alpha packs failed to matter here. They were simply human, simply young boys looking out for each other the best they could.

So when George made to strike again, they all rushed forward to restrain him, but it was Liam who got to him first, blocking his arm swinging forward with the bottle. He drew his own arm back and connected his fist with his father’s jaw.

Then again, again, again.

“Liam,” Harry said. The old man had taken a knee. He was as good as done.

Liam lifted his trembling hands away. He exhaled heavily, rapidly, curling his bloodied fist up at his side. “That was for Zayn and my mum,” he said, breathlessly. “Pack your things. I won’t ask again.”

He took a step back. George glared at all of them, blinking past the blood leaking from his brow. When he met Harry’s gaze, he smiled, his teeth stained red. The smile said it all.

With one last rush of power, he got up. There was a frenzy of movement. All the boys rushing forward. Liam shrinking back, clutching his arm. Harry pushing George. George stumbling, falling, too drunk to maintain his momentum. Tripping over the arm of his chair.

There was a groan, a gasp, and a gush of red.

A second later, Harry saw why.

George Payne had just impaled himself on the sharp edge of his own bottle. Some would call it justice. Harry might have too.

First, he called an ambulance.

+

Harry couldn’t stop seeing Louis’ face, washed in the melancholy glow of a street lamp. He’d looked as though he’d seen a ghost, his eyes unnaturally wide as Harry exited the Payne’s home with blood coating the front of his shirt.

Harry couldn’t stop seeing Louis moving towards him as fast as he could. He met Louis halfway and they halted there in the drive. Louis touched his face, his neck, his stomach, looking seconds away from licking his wounds if he found them. But there were none.

“I’m alright,” Harry told him.

Louis inspected him anyway, until he was satisfied and then with a heavy, shaking breath, he lowered his hands. He shut his eyes, let his head fall against Harry’s chest and stayed like that until two ambulances and a police vehicle arrived.

The other boys had cleared out by then. They couldn’t be seen. The story was that Zayn, Harry, Louis and Liam had been heading out on a double date when they encountered Liam’s dad and things turned violent. The police seemed convinced enough. They’d been looking for a reason, any reason at all, to haul George away for years.

They asked them a few questions and sent them on their way.

On the drive to Louis’ home, he and Harry sat silent and pensive. But the radio was on low and the windows were lowered, which was noise enough. Harry pulled the car up to the kerb in front of Louis’ home and parked. He glanced at Louis and Louis looked away.

“We’re here,” Harry said stupidly.

“Thanks,” Louis said.

Harry dropped his hands into his lap. “I don’t know which of us will hear from Zayn or Liam first—”

“I’ll ring you if I do.”

“Thanks,” Harry said. “And thanks for coming too.”

“Thanks for not getting yourself killed,” Louis replied, and then he must’ve found it an odd thing to say, because his brows wrinkled slightly and he reached for the door handle. “Good night, H.”

“Good night, Lou.”

He didn’t get all the words out before the door was shut.

+

**12 May 2018**

In the morning, Harry arrived at Liam’s to find Zayn and Louis already there.

“Seven stitches and you think you’re a war hero?” Louis was saying from the kitchen when Zayn let Harry in. Louis actually smiled when Harry appeared, something small but there nonetheless.

Steps away, Liam’s mum was chatting on the phone and frying a shit ton of eggs it looked like. She waved upon spotting Harry and Harry waved back.

“You’ve not had stitches before, have you, Louis?” Liam asked, his brows arched. He was seated at the kitchen table in his pyjamas with a blanket thrown over his legs and a cup of tea in front of him. “Not sure you can talk if you’ve never had stitches,” he went on. “These are battle scars. Right, Haz?”

Harry peeled his eyes away from Louis. He leaned closer, inspecting Liam’s stitches. “Look like battle scars to me,” he said. He met Louis’ gaze and shrugged.

Louis rolled his eyes. “Fine. They look pretty sick.”

“Alright, stop waving them around,” Zayn said. “I need to put the bandage back on.”

He settled in the chair next to Liam and drew his arm into his lap.

Harry took the empty seat beside Louis. He met Liam’s gaze, his expression turned serious. “How is he?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” Liam said. “Turns out he’s been pretty sick for a while. Something to do with his liver. He doesn’t have a ton of time left, so. They’ll be keeping him locked up, I guess, until…whenever.”

“Nearby?” Harry asked.

“They assured us not, but I guess we won’t know until his trial. Feels like there’s still so much to be done,” Liam said. “But I think this part will be easier.”

“It will be,” Liam's mum said.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. “We’ll all make sure of it.”

Liam smiled. “Thanks, mate.”

“Alright, you’re going to make us all cry,” Zayn said. “Louis, tell them about your plan.”

“It’s not just _my_ plan. It’s ours,” Louis said. He pushed the salt and pepper shakers together idly. “We’re planning a lads holiday.”

And he glanced very fleetingly at Harry.

“To celebrate the end of the school year,” Louis added.

Harry’s brows wrinkled. “Who’s invited?”

“It’d be just the four of us,” Louis said.

Harry looked at him, then at Zayn, then Liam. They were all looking back at him, waiting for him to agree or object. Harry was more inclined to the latter. Maybe pretending to be on a double date yesterday had gotten to their heads. What would it look like for them to go on an actual double date? A whole holiday. As if Harry needed extended time to suffer around Louis.

“It’d be just for a weekend,” Louis said. “We thought maybe we’d go camping.”

Harry didn’t know how to say it. _I can’t be around you under normal circumstances. I don’t know_ how _to be around you._

He felt a sharp jab in his shin, the culprit being Liam’s big toe. “Sounds fun,” Harry said.

And he wasn’t imagining how happy Louis looked when he did.

They had breakfast, the four of them, chatting and laughing as if they were the oldest of friends. And when Harry’s knee brushed Louis’ beneath the table, Louis noticeably didn’t pull away.

+

There were exactly three weeks left until the end of the semester and Harry spent a lot of that time thinking. It was easier to think with Louis away from school nursing his ankle and easier without worrying about Liam’s dad.

Harry had time to think about all the things he hadn’t allowed himself to before. About what he’d learned over the past year, like how it feels to love someone and lose them, and how that hurt can be mitigated in times of crisis. And he thought about the things he was still learning.

Like how not to give up when all the odds fall on the side of the opposition.

He had time to miss Louis (and god, did he fucking miss Louis).

He thought about what Louis had said in the infirmary. _I want you._ The most honest thing he’d said in as many months. That used to be enough for Harry. To feel wanted by Louis. To know Louis reciprocated in any way whatsoever. Maybe that could be again.

And somewhere in the middle of all his ruminating, he had enough time left to find resolve.

+

**28 May 2018**

Liam and Zayn saw each other so often, most people would wonder how they didn’t get sick of it. But Harry understood. If he could see Louis every day and things were alright between them, he’d never get sick it of it either.

Things were normalizing for them, except there was a new and improved standard of normal. Liam wasn’t so angry at the world all the time and that probably did a lot of good for things with Zayn.

They ate lunch together again (away from Harry and Niall, thank God). Liam waited after practice for Zayn or drove him to school in the morning. After school, they had the freedom to hang out at Liam’s now too.

But Monday evening, they were headed to the Tomlinson’s...with Harry in tow.

Harry was eerily calm on the drive over, his head leaned against the passenger window, listening to Zayn murmur along to Kanye West. They arrived at the Tomlinson’s within ten minutes and Daisy let them all in, swatting at Liam who touched her head, beaming at Harry. She took his hand and led him further inside, into the kitchen where Jay was sat, leaning close to her laptop. She looked at him over the tops of her glasses.

“Hi,” Harry said.

“Hi, Harry,” she said, pushing her glasses into her hair. “How are you?”

“Alright. You?”

“No complaints,” she said, reaching for her tea. “Would you like a cuppa?”

Harry hesitated, watching Liam and Zayn sink into the couch. “Sure.”

She stood up, fetching the electric kettle, and fixed him a quick cup. Harry took a seat across from her and accepted the warm porcelain with a ‘thank you’ and a smile.

“Busy?” he asked.

She propped her elbow up on the table and rested her chin in her palm. “I suppose so. I’ve started working on something…” She shook her head, trailing off.

“Like what?”

“Like a book.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” Jay said, smiling. “It’s something I’ve always taken interest in. Just keeps me busy when I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“Sounds like a great idea.”

“Your mum thought so too,” Jay said. And upon seeing Harry’s confusion, she added, “I went to her book club a while ago.”

His mum hadn’t even mentioned it. “Did you like it?” Harry asked.

“I did. I went because I wanted to talk to her about you actually.”

Harry stilled. “Me?”

“You and Louis,” Jay clarified. “I wanted to know if you were getting on as poorly as he was.”

Harry couldn’t meet her eye anymore. He set his cup down. “I—”

“Not to worry. I didn’t end up asking her. We talked about books and writing instead,” Jay said, rolling her eyes. “I imagine the answer is yes, though. That you’re not getting on much better than him.”

“Did he tell you—”

“He told me everything.”

“I would never do anything to hurt him,” Harry said earnestly.

“He told me that too,” Jay said. “And I believe him.”

Harry exhaled a quiet breath of relief, confident now that he wasn’t on the chopping block. “I’m not getting on much better, no.”

She smiled. “Well, he’s upstairs and I imagine you’re not here to talk with me.” She took his cup and nodded towards the hall. “Just needs a bit of a push sometimes.”

Harry stood up. “Thank you,” he said. “For the tea.”

But it was obviously for much more.

He left Jay in the kitchen and started up the stairs, feeling Liam and Zayn’s eyes on him and avoiding them.

He tapped two times on the bedroom door and drew a breath.

“Yeah?” Louis replied like he would to one of his sisters.

Harry pushed the door open.

Louis was reclined in his bed against the headboard, one arm tucked behind his head. His injured ankle was propped on a pillow. After a second, he turned his head away from the telly and his eyes widened a bit. He found the remote, muted whatever he was watching and sat upright.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” Harry said, his eyes straying. Louis was wearing a loose black jumper that nearly fell off his shoulders and a pair of black briefs. So much golden skin in sight. Harry cleared his throat. “Um. I brought something for you. Your mum said it was alright to come up.”

Louis nodded. “Yeah.” He scooted to the side, creating room on his bed. He bent his uninjured leg upright, knee to his chest. “You can sit.”

Harry left the door parted just a little and strolled closer. He pictured the same scene unfolding months prior, Louis patting his bed to beckon Harry towards him. Back then, Harry had been nervous and unsure. Every step was inexperienced and terrifying. His hands shook.

This time Harry approached the bed without hesitation and took a seat. His hands were steady as he removed his rucksack and set it on his lap.

“It’s kind of like a get-well-soon package,” he said. “I didn’t have time to wrap it or anything, but—”

He pulled out a pack of Skittles and shook them like a maraca.

Louis’ smile grew. “Nice.”

“And…” Harry reached into his rucksack and drew out the most recent edition of The Amazing Spider-Man. “Since you can’t really go get them yourself.”

Louis took the book and set it in his lap, running his hand over the cover. His eyes met Harry’s again.

“I’ve also got two cans of Coke in here,” Harry said. “And a brownie that Ian gave me? Pretty sure it’s got weed in it.”

Louis sniffed it. “Jesus…”

“Oh, and these are some plays we went over in practice last week, so you’re not too out of the loop when you’re back on the pitch,” Harry said. “Which is hopefully soon because everyone misses you.”

Harry most of all.

“I miss everyone too,” Louis said, looking over all the items laid out on his bed. “Thanks for this.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, zipping his rucksack back up. “And if there’s anything else you need, just let me know.”

“That means a lot. Really,” Louis said.

Harry ran his hand through his curls, tugging on them a bit. “Um—”

Louis looked at him expectantly.

“I just-- I’ve thought about what you said” Harry started. “About everything you’ve said recently. And maybe I haven’t been fair. Maybe I asked too much of you too soon? The things is... I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. That’s a long time to be sure about something. And maybe you need time to catch up with me? Or I don’t know— Maybe you just need more time and I’m willing— I can give you that. I’m willing to wait a while longer.”

Louis’ bottom lip twitched. He looked down at his duvet.

Big push, Harry reminded himself.

“You asked me once to be patient with you,” he said. “You might not remember, but you said that to me. And I can do that. I want to.”

Louis shut his eyes. “I give up,” he said, releasing a big, heavy breath. He looked at Harry, his blue eyes meeting his full on. “After everything I’ve said and done— I’ve been shit to you and you’re still here. I don’t-  I don’t deserve this at _all_. And yet…” He gestured towards Harry. “You’re crazy, Harry.”

“Crazy in love, yeah,” Harry said, laughing when Louis laughed. “And I don’t get tired of saying it, obviously.”

Louis’ brows wrinkled and he swallowed like it hurt. “Maybe say it again?” he asked, his voice kind of hoarse all of a sudden.

“That I’m crazy in love?”

“Not like that.”

“I love you,” Harry said.

“Right.” Louis hugged his knee to his chest tightly, his eyes steady on him. “I love you too.”

Harry nearly missed it. The words nearly drowned out by the sound of his heart thumping. But it reached him, every syllable. And he couldn’t speak or breathe or do anything in the second that passed.

“Last week, I swore to myself, the next time you said it, I’d say it back,” Louis said. “So there it is.”

“Louis—”

“Wait, please?” Louis looked at him, imploringly, and Harry quieted. “I don’t need time to catch up with you. I’ve loved you since Year 10. You were weird and awkward and not at all like most alphas I’d met. And I liked that about you. And I wanted to know things about you. I was curious. That’s all it was until you wrote that fucking poem—” He rolled his eyes. “I wanted it to be about me. And then I thought about you all the time. I hated how often I thought about you. And I hated how you were always looking at me but you never talked to me. The one alpha I wanted who didn’t want me back.”

“That’s not—” Louis gave him a look. "Sorry."

“I know it’s not true, but I didn’t know anything back then.” Louis shoved his fringe away from his eyes. “I’ve loved you forever, that’s the point. But I couldn’t say it because yes, I was scared. I’m still— Sometimes love and mating and marriage don’t work. I’ve seen it happen. Sometimes you just get stuck. Sometimes you get tied down. But Jesus, Harry—” His voice broke and his lashes beat quickly and he folded his bottom lip briefly beneath his teeth. “The other night, when I saw you— when you came out of that house, I thought— That’s what fear feels like, doesn’t it? What it _actually_ feels like. I thought he’d hurt you. I thought— To even consider losing you— If I lost you, if you weren’t around, I’d never come back from that. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so,” Harry said. He wanted to reach for his hand. He wanted to touch him. “Maybe you should say it anyway.”

Louis looked at him, his eyes red-rimmed. “If we never mated— I’d still feel— I’m tied to you already. I’m yours already. And it’s past the point of being undone. And I can live with that. I want to. I know I fucked this up. I know. But if we could try again, I promise—”

“Lou.”

“This whole time, all I’ve done is bang on about getting hurt, but _I_ hurt _you_. I left you. And I’ll never forgive myself for that but I’m not my dad. I’m not. And I won’t leave you again, I promise.”

“Louis,” Harry said, reaching for him, cupping his face. “You could never be your dad. I never considered that for a second, and neither should you.”

Louis touched his hands, hooking his fingers over Harry’s. “I’m sorry—”

“You love me?” Harry asked.

“I do,” Louis said, nodding.

“Do you trust me?”

Louis nodded again. “More than anyone.”

Harry let his forehead brush Louis’, overwhelmed by all the relief he felt. “That’s all that matters,” he said.

“I had a longer apology ready if you want to hear it,” Louis said. “I’m sorry for thinking you and Cory—”

“I’m good,” Harry said. “But thanks.”

“Can I kiss you now then?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Louis pushed their mouths together immediately. His arms circled Harry’s waist and he was soft and gentle about the way he touched him. He was tentative and nervous, and it was strange but Harry liked it. He liked how nascent it felt, like they were learning each other again. And it didn’t feel like a step back. It felt like a step forward in a new direction.

They kissed slowly and tenderly. Louis scooted backwards, lifting his duvet. He shuffled underneath, holding it up for Harry who kicked off his shoes and climbed in.

“What you said, about waiting: Why now?” Louis asked, his fingers moving lazily through Harry’s curls.

It took Harry a second to understand what he meant. “In the infirmary, you said you wanted me.”

“I do,” Louis said, brushing his nose across Harry’s. “I said it all wrong, but I do want you.”

“You’d just sprained your ankle. Maybe you couldn’t think clearly.”

“You’re just making excuses for me,” Louis said. “You've got to stop doing that. I should've told you all these things a long time ago.” He turned onto his back, keeping his fingers linked with Harry’s.

“When you left my house that night,” he said, “Before I broke things off— It felt wrong right away. But I didn’t know how to undo it once it was done. It’s one thing to say sorry, but I had to get my head in order, you know?”

Harry nodded.

“I wanted you to make it easy for me, but you wouldn’t,” Louis said. “And I’m glad you didn’t. I need you not to make it easy for me. I want to work hard at this.”

“Alright.” Harry pressed his smile into Louis’ pillow, inhaling his smell greedily before he remembered that Louis was lying right beside him. He pulled him a bit closer by the waist, pushing his nose against his neck. “I regret stopping you in the infirmary, though. Just so you know.”

“Well, you should,” Louis said. “We would’ve had great sex.”

The mention of sex had Harry’s head spinning a bit. It didn’t help obviously that they were pressed so close or that Louis’ scent was everywhere or that Louis was now running his fingers along the thin strip of exposed skin at Harry’s waist.

Harry looked at his mouth, watched his tongue slide across his bottom lip. And he thought, what a shame it’d be not to kiss him right then. So he did.

Their tongues touched the way a person sinks into a warm bed or into their favourite couch. Familiar and consuming and irresistible. Everything was warm and slightly dewy including Harry’s nervous fingers sliding beneath Louis’ shirt. Louis pulled him, rearranging them both so Harry could settle on top of him.

“Your ankle,” Harry said.

“It’s fine,” Louis murmured, hooking his ankle over Harry’s calf. Their crotches brushed, slotted together as they were, and things started to blur in that heady, wanton way arousal blurs everything.

At the sound of footsteps in the hall, Harry pulled away, holding his breath so he couldn’t be heard panting. The footsteps passed but they were reminded that they weren’t alone and the moment was lost.

“I could lock the door,” Louis said. “Turn the TV back up.”

“Your mum was really nice to let me come up here in the first place,” Harry said. “I’d feel bad.”

Louis sighed. “Don’t freak out or anything, but she really likes you, my mum. She’s fine with Liam now too, I guess, but compared to him, she thinks you’re an angel.”

“Tell her thanks.”

“She didn’t say it like that exactly,” Louis said. “She’s the one that suggested a holiday, just the four of us.”

“I knew you were up to something,” Harry said.

Louis grinned. “I’m always up to something.”

They settled onto their sides again, facing each other and huddled close. “Next time,” Louis said, brushing his mouth across Harry’s. “I’ll make it up to you then.”

“We’ve got a lot to make up for,” Harry said.

“Expect me to say ‘I love you’ nonstop from now on.”

“Should we say it enough times that people get sick of us?”

Louis scoffed. “Enough times that they want to kill us more like.”

“I love you,” Harry said.

“We don’t have an audience right now,” Louis said, shuffling somehow closer. “But I love you too.”


	20. Chapter 20

**31 May 2018**

Omega was the 24th and last letter in the Greek alphabet, so it’d logically come to mean the end. Alpha and omega were the first and the last, the beginning and the end.

But it didn’t quite fit; For Harry, everything had started with Louis.

Or started _again_.

Harry ran to school that Thursday, arriving in record time with his hair wind-tossed, his cheeks flushed, and the faint scent of Louis’ skin coaxing him past the front doors. He didn’t have to look long to find him. He didn’t have to look at all.

Louis was stood at Harry’s locker, a textbook curled under his arm, his mobile in hand. He looked up as soon as Harry came into view, his smile growing.

“About time,” he said.

Harry felt the attention of their peers, eager to witness a dramatic reunion, one that had already played out for the most part behind closed doors. They’d stayed in bed for hours on Monday, talking. Tuesday had been the same, except with crisps and biscuits and FIFA and tea. Wednesday, Harry didn’t see him at all, which was torture, to put it simply.

“I ran here,” Harry said, still slightly out of breath.

Louis made a point of seeming unimpressed. “Should’ve run faster.”

Harry had missed this. The teasing and the toying and the tension always present with the two of them. He gave a tiny shake of his head, feigning exhaustion. But he felt more alert and alive than he had in weeks. His eyes landed on Louis’ smiling mouth. He glanced around and met the furtive gazes of at least five people.

“This is the first time we’re speaking to each other in weeks,” Louis said quietly. “They’re not going to stop staring.”

“Should we give them a show then?” Harry asked.

“Of course,” Louis said, as he stepped closer, reaching for the collar of Harry’s crisp white shirt and tugging him close. He kissed him, right there in the hallway. He even slipped him a little tongue. Harry took his hand, curling their fingers together, and pulled him away from the lockers, away from their nosy neighbours. He walked as quickly as he could, mindful of Louis’ newly healed ankle. The bell rang and students began to head into their classrooms and the hallways began to clear.

Louis tugged him back. “Here,” he said, trying the knob of a door they’d started to pass. It opened to a dark, empty classroom. They left the light off, pushed the door shut, locked it.

Harry pulled the shade down, keeping hold of Louis’ hand.

“Class is starting,” Louis said.

“I don’t care.”

Harry pinned both of Louis’ wrists to the wall, slightly above his head. And the sight of Louis, trapped like that, made him feel more frenzied. He wasn’t approaching a rut, but he might as well have been.

“What’s gotten into you?” Louis asked, as though he weren’t loving every minute of it.

“You,” Harry said, and then his lips were on Louis’ and Louis’ tongue was on his. And he could smell him — a bit of sweat from being outside on perhaps the warmest day of the year thus far, deodorant he’d applied that morning, the laundry detergent his mum used, and worse, the smell of slick — all of it making Harry’s throat feel bone dry.

“I missed you like crazy,” Harry said, pressing his face into Louis’ neck. He’d loosened his grip on Louis’ wrists. Louis draped his arms around Harry’s shoulders, fingers drifting through his hair.

“Missed you too,” he said, voice muffled. Then softer: “Love you.”

Harry groaned like the words could break him. He held onto him very tightly. “Love you too,” he said, lifting his head. “How many people are we planning to annoy today?”

Louis grinned. “All of them.”

“ _All_?” Harry lifted his brows.

“Every last one.”

+

“Things seem good with you and Louis,” Niall said on their walk home. Louis had taken a ride with Liam and Zayn: He didn’t want to overwork his ankle before tomorrow's game, he said. And Harry had book club with his mum.

“Things are great now,” Harry said honestly. Because they had been. He and Louis had picked up right where they left off, except they said ‘I love you’ perhaps too often and Harry didn’t feel like their relationship was on a timer anymore. “He’s perfect.”

Niall smiled, nudging his shoulder against Harry’s, laughing at the obvious blush on Harry’s face. “You deserve it, mate. You both do.”

The obvious thing to say was that Niall also deserved something sweet and secure. Because it was the truth, and someday he’d see him just as happy as he felt himself. But saying something like that at a time like this was bound to summon thoughts of Niall and Zayn, which they’d all been avoiding for weels.

“I talked to Zayn,” Niall said all of sudden. And Harry’s thoughts screeched to a halt. “Yesterday.”

“How did that go?”

Niall glanced at him. “Don’t look so alarmed, Harry. Jesus,” he said. “Nothing happened.”

Harry hadn’t imagined that anything would. In the end, when choosing between Liam and Niall, there really hadn’t been a choice for Zayn.

“Well, what did he say?” Harry asked.

“Just that he was sorry how things had turned out. And that he did feel something. Still does.”

“But?”

Niall shrugged. “He loves him, you know? And he doesn’t love me and I think that’s alright. I think I’m not in love with him either. How could I be?”

“I mean, you could be,” Harry said, which wasn’t helpful. But he was a firm believer in love happening whenever, wherever, however.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not,” Niall said. “I liked him a lot. But I wasn’t prepared to mate with him. I don’t think I’m ready for that at all, and I think I would be if I loved someone enough.”

“Good point,” Harry said. He tried not to think about it lately, but he’d do it with Louis. He hoped someday he had the chance.

“I just want him to be happy,” Niall said. “And I think he is.”

Harry threw an arm around Niall’s shoulder and pulled him close, throwing them slightly off balance. He hugged Harry back, the two of them walking lopsided for a bit and then they separated.

“Think how many omegas there’ll be at uni,” Niall said.

Harry laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “Just make sure they’re actually, completely single.”

Niall shoved him. “Fuck off.”

+

**1 June 2018**

It took Louis a minute to get back into the swing of the game. The first half was messy, and Harry was tense, eyeing every alpha who came within a foot of Louis, ears perked at all times for that outcry of pain, for a grunt or groan. It was the nature of the game, he knew, but he could hardly concentrate. He was suddenly beyond grateful that this was the last official game they’d ever play together because he could no longer handle the stress. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever handled the stress.

“I’m fine,” Louis told him during a time-out, touching Harry’s hand briefly. “Seriously. Relax.”

Harry tried. He threw himself into the defence. And somehow, eventually, they brought the game to a tie, spurned by the sound of their family in the stands. Louis played hard until he was out of breath and drenched in sweat that made his skin glow and his hair darken. He stood with his hands propped on his hands, chest ballooning and glanced at Harry, shooting him a thumbs up. Harry mirrored him.

It got nasty several times. Louis and Zayn both scored themselves yellow cards for swearing at rival players. Someone on the opposing team got a red card for calling the ref a cunt and then flipping him a bird seconds later. Harry was bruised, although it was worth it maybe for Louis promising to ice him later.

He was exhausted, drenched in sweat, hungry, vaguely aroused by Louis being Louis, and he wanted to go home already. He wanted Coach to bench him. He wanted it to be over.

And then it was.

It happened so quickly he almost missed it, was so busy watching Louis facing off against this kid named Lucas. Louis had the ball. Lucas put up a really good fight blocking and trying to steal it from him. They ducked side to side. Louis kicked the ball to Niall, veered to the left of Lucas, got the ball back and kicked it away again.

And that was the bit Harry missed for a second: that when he kicked, the ball flew into the top corner of the net.

Louis sank down to the ground, then flopped onto his back, in the same moment that all the boys started screaming and running towards him. Niall jumped onto Harry’s back, the two of them teetering. Louis sat upright, laughing, pushing two fists into the air.

They’d won. All of them together. But the second Louis looked at him, the two of them grinning, Harry thought, _me most of all_.

+

**2 June 2018**

Harry liked getting dressed up occasionally and there were hardly enough opportunities to do it. The football club had an awards ceremony the following night at their school. They’d be taking pictures too, which seemed like the perfect time to bust out his favourite suit: a dark grey suit with a crisp black shirt and a black tie. His dad insisted on the tie clip.

His knee bounced in the back seat. He urged his dad to drive just a little bit faster. Louis was probably there already. All of the boys must’ve been by now.

He got the door for his mum, but told them he’d meet them inside. They walked too slow and he “had to use the loo.”

“Haz!” Niall spotted him as soon as he stepped into the gymnasium. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a red tie. They hugged each other. “I just saw Louis and Zayn a second ago.”

Harry drew away. “Where?” he asked breathlessly.

“He was grabbing a seat with his family,” Niall said, then pointed across the gymnasium. “Over there somewhere.”

“I’ll catch up with you later,” Harry told him. He couldn’t bolt away like he wanted, as it turned out. Because his mum called to him, and he had to help them find a table. His mum asked for a glass of water, and he promised her one, scanning the gym for wherever they were hiding the drinks and hors-d'oeuvres. Which is, of course, when he spotted Louis, looking back at him.

He looked like a miracle in light grey, with a white shirt that made that faint tan of his stand out, and a black tie. His hair was wispy and Harry wanted to push his fingers through it and mess it up. He wanted to mess him up, but in a really tender, gentle, loving way.

Louis lifted his brows, as if to say, “Well?”

And Harry cut through the crowd with an “excuse me” muttered here and there. Louis glanced around once Harry reached him. “You look,” he said, shaking his head, sweeping his gaze to Harry’s feet and then back up to his eyes. “I want to get you out of here.”

“I’m kind of tempted to throw you over my shoulder,” Harry said. “So, safe to say the feeling is mutual.”

“I actually wouldn’t protest if you threw me over your shoulder,” Louis said, touching the end of Harry’s tie. “I shouldn’t say you clean up nicely. You’re always… smoking.”

Harry snorted. “Shut up. You look… like an angel, to be honest.”

Louis’ brows wrinkle. “I’m no angel.”

“We all know that.”

Louis narrowed his eyes, poking him in the chest. “You watch it, Styles.” He looked at Harry’s smiling mouth. Harry looked at Louis'. They glanced around the gym, both of them looking for a point of egress, finding none. With a shaky breath, Louis looked away. “Care for some punch? They’ve got great cheese over there too.”

“Yes, please,” Harry said, taking Louis’ hand.

It was a long ordeal. He hated how far his table was from Louis’ and he couldn’t stop looking across the gym, sending him a smile. Once he glanced at him and Louis was pulling a silly face, which made Harry sputter. His mum slapped softly at his chest and told him to pay attention while their principal was talking. Harry stood up and clapped when Louis got his first award, the same one they all got, and whistled when he got his second, one for the MVP. Louis was just as loud for him.

By now, everyone had to be sick of them.

Which was why they only stayed at Ian’s after-party for a half an hour. They had two beers each, and bid tipsy farewells to their friends before they walked, hand-in-hand back to Harry’s.

“Think your parents are asleep?” Louis asked, following Harry to the front door.

It was nearly midnight. They were definitely asleep. But Harry still stepped inside quietly. “Hang on,” he said, his ears perked. He thought he could almost hear his dad snoring. “Come on,” he whispered and ushered Louis into the kitchen. He nicked a bottle of Stella Artois that his dad would absolutely miss, took a sip, and handed it to Louis. Their eyes met as Louis put the bottle to his mouth. Louis licked his pink lips and then leaned in and kissed him.

Harry pushed him gently towards the back door, slid it open very quietly, and urged him outside.

They raced each other across the yard. Louis attempted to trip him and failed. Harry reached the tree first and then with a wave of his beer bottle and a small bow of his head, he allowed Louis to climb up ahead of him.

“Oh, thank you,” Louis said, slapping his cheek playfully. That did odd things to Harry. Same as it did when Louis pulled his hair too hard or dug his fingernails into his hips when they had sex. Louis took the first rung of the ladder, glancing back at Harry with an arched brow. “You just want to look at my arse, you heathen.”

“Guilty as charged,” Harry said, laughing. “The view from here is marvellous.”

Louis gave a shake of his hips and climbed on until he reached the landing of Harry’s treehouse. He climbed inside and Harry followed him, kicking off his shoes. Louis kicked off his own and then stood.

“Harry, we’re free!” he announced, thrusting his arms upwards like he’d done on the pitch just yesterday, fists curled.

Harry smiled, sitting cross-legged. “What are we going to do all summer?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Louis said. “The possibilities are endless.”

Harry’s mind was already racing with ideas. He’d never had a summer with Louis before. He wanted to go on a holiday, just the two of them. Or several holidays, even. He wanted to camp out, here in the treehouse or at Louis’. He wanted to take him to Brighton. He wanted to see him in swim trunks, tanned and happy. He couldn’t wait.

“So pensive,” Louis said, getting to his knees and moving closer. He sat down in front of Harry and they looked at one another, smiling.

“I’m thinking about you,” Harry said. “At the beach.”

“There’s an idea.” Louis reached for Harry’s hand resting in his lap. He tangled their fingers together loosely. “Dance with me.”

Harry looked around. “Don’t have any music.”

Louis dug around in his back pocket and pulled out his phone, waving it.

“Alright then.” Harry stood, holding both hands out and Louis took them, getting to his feet. He clicked around on his phone for a second, finding a playlist of slow dance pop songs. He tossed his phone onto a pillow and looked at Harry, brows lifted.

Harry exhaled, ruffling the curly hair falling over his forehead. He stepped close, sliding a hand around Louis’ hip, lifting Louis’ hand with the other and resting it on his shoulder. Louis threw his other arm around Harry’s other shoulder, fingertips touching Harry’s nape softly.

“You should wear a suit more often,” Harry said. “Though I think it’d drive me crazy.”

“When would I have the occasion?

“We’ll have to find one.”

“Don’t suppose you’re planning on proposing any time soon?” Louis asked.

“We should probably survive uni first, shouldn’t we?”

Louis shrugged, resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. “I’d marry you now if you insisted.”

“You’re joking, but I’m definitely going to marry you someday,” Harry said. “I’m going to be with you for as long as I possibly can.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Louis said, looking at him. “I mean that.”

“I believe you,” Harry said, and he did.

Louis brought their mouths together. Harry felt that kiss in his toes and the pit of his stomach, their deepest kiss that night. There was something obscure in Louis’ gaze when he pulled away, in that half-second before he closed his eyes, tilted his head, and kissed Harry again. A swipe of his tongue had Harry’s hands curling around his hips more firmly, pulling him closer.

Louis reached for Harry’s tie, which was slightly loose already, and loosened it further. He pulled it off and dropped it. Harry looked at it there on the floor.

“Have you caught on?” Louis asked.

Harry smiled. “You forget I can smell you, Louis.”

Louis looked amused. “What can you smell?”

Harry’s hands moved from Louis’ hips to his bum. He said, “You want me.”

Louis looked like he wanted to say something clever, something snarky. But he couldn’t, maybe. Or perhaps he didn’t want to. Being clever meant more time wasted and they’d done a lot of that. “I do,” Louis said. “All the time.”

“I can smell it on you,” Harry said again. “Drives me crazy.”

“Good.” Louis pushed Harry’s jacket off. “Show me.”

Harry pressed them together close, thigh to chest. Their crotches brushed, both of them groaning at the slightest friction. “How?” Harry asked.

“You know how.”

“I need you to say it,” Harry said because he wasn’t entirely sure. Because the thing he wanted was the exact thing he’d been trying not to want. But one word from Louis would change his mind entirely.

Exasperated, Louis met his gaze. “Fuck me.”

That thing, yeah. Harry rested their foreheads together. “Louis—”

“Shh.” Louis kissed him, unfastening the first three of his buttons. “Please?”

It was an awful idea. He hadn’t done this in months, but this was a losing battle and had been all night if he was honest with himself. He’d been thinking about this all night. “Okay,” he agreed with a nod. His hands slipped away from Louis’ hips. “Why don’t you lie down?”

“I can do that,” Louis said. And with a parting kiss, he moved past Harry and positioned himself on Harry’s assortment of blankets and cushions beneath them. He shuffled backwards, unbuttoning his trousers. Harry kneeled, reaching out to help him. They undressed, quickly, piece by piece. Louis lied back as Harry reached for his pants, glancing at him. Louis lifted his hips as if to urge him on. And when the pants were gone, there was nothing separating him from the smell of Louis. The wetness of him.

Harry released a heavy breath, pushing Louis’ knees apart.

“Are you just going to look at me?” Louis asked, his cheeks a lovely perfect pink.

“I might,” Harry said. “You smell incredible.”

“That’s going to keep happening if you don’t do something about it,” Louis said.

Harry slid his hand down Louis’ smooth thigh. “I can do something about it,” he said, peeking at him, pushing Louis’ thighs further apart. He moved closer, pressing a kiss to Louis’ tummy. He looked at him again, then kissed his hip. Louis shivered, holding Harry’s hair back so he could watch him as he moved. A kiss on his thigh had Louis lifting his brows. He was wet there, just a bit. Harry licked his skin clean and the taste —

“Fuck—” Harry nosed along Louis’ thigh. “Can I just—? I have to just—”

He looked at him and Louis nodded, his jaw slack. Harry cupped his hips, lowered his gaze, and then he licked him again, right over his hole. Louis swore loudly, his fingers curling up in Harry’s hair tight.

“Have to be quiet,” Harry said, before making it physically impossible for Louis to do as much. He was just as affected as Harry, just as overwhelmed. If Harry knew it’d be like this, he would’ve done this sooner, several times over. He felt insatiable. Every time he tasted Louis, he needed to taste more. And every time he tasted Louis, there _was_ more. Each swipe of Harry’s tongue only made him wetter. They could literally do this all night.

He pushed his tongue into Louis and he wasn’t prepared for the way Louis whimpered and tried to close his thighs. Harry pressed them open.

“I’m going to come,” Louis said.

Harry wanted that. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t, really.  He licked him until his jaw felt sore and he’d pressed bruises into Louis’ thighs and even then he thought, he could _literally_ do this _all_ night.

But then Louis was yanking on Harry’s hair and twisting his torso, pressing his face into a pillow. And he came, just like that, crying out weakly. Harry pulled away, dragging the back of his hand over his mouth.

It took Louis a minute before he could look at him, his eyes obscured by his dark hair. “When did you learn to do that?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Just now,” Harry said. He crawled over top him, sliding his hair away from his eyes. “You’re perfect.” He kissed him.

Louis wrinkled his brows. “Is that what I taste like?”

“You taste amazing,” Harry said, kissing him again. And maybe Louis didn’t disagree because he let Harry lick into his mouth.

“I still want you to fuck me,” Louis said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I didn’t forget.”

“Are you sure?” Louis wondered, pulling Harry’s waistband. “‘Cause you’re still wearing these,” he said, letting the elastic snap against Harry’s skin.

Harry batted his hands away. “Do you want to be under the blanket?” he asked, scooting back a bit.

Louis shook his head. “I want to see you.”

Harry’s lips twitched. He turned over, shoving his pants down his legs, and then quickly, he faced Louis again, feeling stupidly bashful, as if his face hadn’t been buried between Louis’ arse cheeks seconds ago. It was about the way Louis looked at him, how focused he was, how open. Like there were no secrets between them.

Harry positioned himself over top Louis again until their faces were close. “Hi,” he said.

“Hey,” Louis replied, wrapping his legs loosely around Harry’s hips.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Harry said. Because they hadn’t done this in a while.

“You won’t.”

Harry reached between them and took hold of himself, lining up, hesitating only a second. They exhaled twin gasps as Harry breached his slick rim and then again, as Harry pushed in until Louis was full. Their eyes met, then their lips, pressed firmly, desperately together. Every part of their bodies touched somehow. Every bit of them welded together.

“Alright?” Harry asked.

Louis nodded. “Yeah. Don’t stop.”

Harry started to move then, and when he did, he remembered how much he’d missed this. He remembered how tight Louis was the first time, how difficult it’d been to pull out. He felt a bit more in control now, but even then, there was that urge to fuck Louis fast and knot him and empty himself inside.

Harry sat back on his haunches so he could see him clearly — the wrinkle of his brows every time Harry thrust, the way his mouth fell open when the thrust was just right, the flush that had bloomed across his chest, and the sheen of sweat that made it glow.

“Fuck, Lou,” Harry said. “So beautiful.”

Louis swiped his tongue over his top lip, which was also incredibly beautiful. Harry leaned in to kiss him again and Louis held him close, words murmured into his ear — yes, fuck, god, and harry — over and over.

Pressure built steadily at the base of Harry’s spine. He’d known he wouldn’t last long. “I’m close,” he said.

“I love you,” Louis said, looking at him.

Harry slowed his hips down, feeling himself swelling slightly now. “I love you too,” he said. “I have to—”

“Turn us over,” Louis said.

Harry hesitated, and then did. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. You wouldn’t,” Louis said. “You didn’t.”

But then why did he look scared? Or was he worried? Or nervous?

“What is it?” Harry asked, carefully. He touched Louis’ cheek. “What’s wrong?”

Louis pushed his cheek against Harry’s palm. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, rocking his hips forward. “Don’t stop.”

Harry was tempted not to, but it’d be his fault if he came inside Louis, if he didn’t get Louis to understand. He gripped Louis’ hips, his fingers digging in a bit desperately. “Louis, I’m close.”

“I know,” Louis said, and then again, “Don’t stop.”

Harry understood all at once, his whole face wide and open and bright like a house with all the lights turned on.

Louis smiled. “Smart boy,” he said. “I want you to knot me, Harry.”

“Since when?” Harry asked, whispering. That’s the trick with dreams, to whisper so you don’t wake up right away.

“Since forever,” Louis said. “I’ve always- I’ve wanted you forever.”

“But you have me already.”

“All of you,” Louis said. “Every way I can have you.”

He stared at him, his blue eyes wide, searching Harry’s face. He leaned close, kissing Harry once on the mouth. And then, releasing a breath, he slipped off Harry’s dick gingerly and positioned himself on all fours. The dip of his spine was obscene, his bum poised in the air. “Do you want it like this?” he asked.

Harry nearly came just then. He’d never forgive himself if he did. Louis probably wouldn’t either. He squeezed his eyes shut a second and then he turned over. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s— You’re perfect.”

The first man on the moon must’ve been scared, right? No matter how heroic or how ambitious or how confident he’d been. Right before he took the first step, he must’ve been shitting himself a little bit, Harry thought.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” Louis said, sounding absolutely sure. He wiggled his bum. "Are you scared?"

"Maybe a little bit. You?”

Louis took Harry’s hand on his hip and curled their fingers together. "Not anymore."

Harry pressed a kiss to Louis’ shoulder and the curve of his neck. He pressed into him again, both of them sighing when his hips met Louis’ bum. He was still so close, maybe more so knowing what he was about to do. “God,” Harry breathed. “Baby— I love you.”

“Me too,” Louis muttered, rocking backwards. “Come on, love.”

Harry took it all in, the heat of Louis’ skin, his pulse thrumming to the sound of some Frank Ocean song that would otherwise make Harry think he was dreaming. But he wasn’t. He was alive and he was here. Louis was alive and here and _his_.

And Harry sank his teeth into the sweat-damp skin of Louis’ neck where everyone could see, hard enough to draw blood, the first time he’d ever deliberately caused him pain. But the way Louis cried out and trembled and came said he wasn’t hurting at all.

With one final, defining thrust, Harry finished inside him, everything going loose like his strings had been cut. He cradled Louis against his chest, but slumped to the blankets, the two of them panting heavily. Louis shivered each time Harry licked the mark he’d left on him. They curled together like a river and its bank, though it was unclear who was the river and who was the bank. Harry felt boneless and empty in the finest way. Like all his worry and anxiety and fear about his and Louis’ future had drained out of him, left him airy and buoyant, but somehow anchored too.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, squeezing Louis around the middle.

Louis nodded. “Never better,” he mumbled, drowsily. He brought their joined hands up to his mouth and kissed Harry’s fingertips. “I love you.”

Harry pressed his nose into the bend of Louis’ neck. He could feel that, somehow. He felt loved. He felt an abundance of devotion between them as if it had manifested physically in that space. And if he could feel it, Louis could too. He said “I love you” aloud anyhow.

“Blanket,” Louis replied.

Harry huffed a laugh. He found one within arms reach and dragged it up to their ears. Vaguely, he remembered kissing Louis’ neck and Louis brushing his mouth across Harry’s wrist. He remembered pulling out at some point and Louis turning to face him, and they’d kissed and kissed until they couldn’t anymore.

+

**27 July 2018**

Summer was perfect for a proper date and Harry was a shameless romantic. Life had settled down. School had ended. Halfway into their holiday, Harry took a break from plotting his upcoming semester to plot what would go down as the most romantic night to ever happen to anyone ever.

He arrived at the Tomlinson’s on a humid Friday night in July. He saw the drapes at the front windows shift the instant he pulled his car up to the kerb. And he didn’t have to text Louis before the front door opened, spilling light onto the steps.

Harry shouldn’t have felt nervous, but he did. He stepped out, reaching for the roses and peonies in their vase beside him, and the pie for Jay and the others. With his hands full, he couldn’t run his fingers through his hair. He had to hope that his cowlick was behaving itself.

He wore all black, once again on Gemma’s instant recommendation. A black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, skinny black jeans, and black Vans. And glancing in the reflection of the family car, he thought he looked nice.

He approached the front door and Lottie stood there, smiling.

“You clean up very nicely,” she said.

Harry smiled, spotting Jay as he stepped inside. “This is for you,” he said, handing her his pie. “It’s apple.”

“Did you make it yourself?” she asked.

“I did, actually,” Harry said, near to preening.

On the couch, Zayn snorted. And that was when Louis appeared, stepping out of the kitchen. “Not sure what’s funny,” he said, glancing at Harry. He looked at him from head-to-toe, and Harry felt even prouder, straightening his spine.

Louis looked incredible, wearing a white Rolling Stones tee and black jeans and his own pair of Vans.  “I’ve got a chef for a boyfriend,” he said, smiling.

The twins giggled and Louis wrinkled his nose at them, ruffling Daisy’s hair as he passed her. He eyed the flowers in Harry’s hands.

“These are for you,” Harry said, extending them.

Louis took them, pressing his nose into a rose, hiding a smile. “They’re perfect, thank you.”

“I’ll put them in a vase in your room,” Jay said, taking the bouquet. “You two go on. Have fun.”

They practically ran to the car, eager to be out of sight. At a traffic light, Louis leaned over, pressing their mouths together, sloppily. They giggled, kissed again, Harry’s hand leaving the wheel to touch Louis’ clean-shaven face.

“You brought me flowers,” Louis said.

“I did.” Harry returned his hand to the wheel. “And I’m about to buy you dinner too.”

“Are you taking me somewhere posh?” Louis asked, sitting back in his seat. “Because if so, I would’ve liked to wear my suit.”

“I think you’d be overdressed in a suit.”

Louis seemed content with that answer, resting his hand on Harry’s thigh, which was only slightly distracting. “You look hot, by the way,” he said, looking at Harry the way he had inside, if not more overtly.

Harry glanced at him, not missing the heat in his gaze. He sent it back. “So do you.”

“Are you going to knot me in the backseat when this is over?”

Harry gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter. “If I survive, maybe.”

But probably he wouldn’t. Because he couldn’t think of a place to park the car where they wouldn’t get caught and he was set for uni in autumn, not prison. He was tempted though. The season hadn’t provided as many opportunities as he would’ve liked.

Louis gave his thigh another squeeze and settled into his seat.

Harry took him to an Italian spot that his mum suggested. They started with Cokes and breadsticks while surveying their menus to the light of solitary candle lamp. He saw Louis widen his eyes at the menu and smiled.

“Order anything you want,” Harry said.

Louis glanced at him. “Uh… Even the lobster?”

Harry pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “Especially the lobster.” Just then a waiter walked by with a plate of lobster and set it on a table nearby. Harry said, “That’s got your name all over it.”

Louis snorted. “Stop distracting me,” he said, lifting his menu up to his brows.

They started with oysters. Louis got shrimp scampi. Harry got the tortellini. They ended up liking each other’s dishes more than the ones they’d ordered for themselves and switched. They finished with tiramisu which they also shared.

After dinner and perhaps, because their stomachs were full, they were disruptive, traipsing around too loudly with too much laughter. Louis leapt onto Harry’s back and Harry just barely managed to secure him. Louis pressed tickling kisses down the column of his neck, his arms tight across Harry’s shoulders.

“I’m going to drop you if you don’t stop,” Harry said.

Louis nibbled on his ear. “You wouldn’t.”

Harry wouldn’t, although he pretended to loosen his grip plenty, pretended to drop him, and laughed each time Louis yelped and kicked his heel into Harry’s thigh.

They stopped at a fountain, tossed two coins in with wishes attached: Harry’s was to go on holiday with Louis before the summer was over. They kept strolling in the patches of dark and light beneath street lamps, the sound of the water fading behind them.

Louis tugged on his hand suddenly, bringing Harry to a halt. He tilted his head to the right. “Up for it?” he asked.

Beside them, a neon sign glowed brightly, the word ‘tattoo’ in brilliant pink. Beyond the glass, there was a woman sitting at the front desk, and beyond her, another woman tattooing a bald man. Harry looked at Louis. “Seriously?”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know. I used to think tattoos were kind of stupid, but— I mean, I’d get one with you. I’d tattoo your name on my bum, probably.”

“I love your bum exactly how it is.”

“Well, thanks,” Louis said. “You said you wanted a tattoo before, yeah? Why not do it together?”

Harry grinned, bouncing on his toes a little. “I’m up for it,” he said.

Louis took another step back towards the door. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, allowing himself to be tugged forward. Together they stepped inside.

His mum would probably have a fit seeing the sizeable anchor on his wrist, especially after Harry got more detail added to it. Louis got himself a rope. They hadn’t gone there intending to get matching designs, but they’d seen the designs on a flash sheet and nothing else compared.

And how much more fitting than the beginning and the end for an alpha and his omega: an anchor and its rope.

+

As soon as they were back in the car, Louis climbed into Harry’s lap, taking hold of the seat to steady himself.

“We’re not having sex here,” Harry said.

Louis kissed his jaw, right where his mole was. “Why not?”

“Because with my luck, I’d knot you and a cop would come by or someone would try to steal the car.”

“You’re literally the only person who thinks that way,” Louis said.

“I’m not doing it, Louis”

Louis groaned, sliding back into his own seat. “I can’t believe this. I’m a mated man now and I can’t even get my own alpha to fuck me properly. This is an outrage.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re completely ridiculous.” He started the car. “I never said the night was over.”

“Oh, yeah?” Louis lifted his brows.

“My parents are probably asleep,” Harry said. “And I told your mum we’d be out a bit late.”

“When did you tell her that?”

“Over text.”

“Wait a minute. Since when do you text my mum?”

“It’s kind of recent,” Harry said. “Just been sending her recipes and things like that. Or resources for her book.”

Louis mulled this over visibly. “That’s kind of adorable,” he decided. “Kind of turns me on, you being sweet with my family.”

“I mean, they’re sort of my family now too,” Harry said. “Being mated to you and all, yeah?”

Louis threw his head back against the seat dramatically and groaned. “Say it louder.”

Harry shook his head, laughing, and turned up the radio instead.

+

**14 September 2018**

Life at Manchester was bliss.

Harry loved his history with Louis — that their relationship had started in and survived through Year 12. But he felt for the first time like he had a proper adult relationship.

They moved into a flat together, a two-bedroom which they shared with another roommate called Paulie who was hilarious and kind, but who spent more time with his girlfriend than he did with them. They practically had the place to themselves which was rich fodder for thoughts of their own home someday with a few kids and a few pets.

In Manchester, they had drunk, endless autumn nights. They went pub-crawling with friends and returned to their flat to fuck loud and long on their moonlit couch. They watched rom-coms and thrillers in bed with wine and cheese. They took showers together in the mornings and baths together at night. They did the groceries together, cooked dinner together, and got take-away together when they couldn’t be bothered.

They were eager for what time they could get with one another because, in fact, they had very separate lives when it came to their studies. When Louis wasn’t in class, he was on the pitch, training hard, and sometimes he returned home, exhausted and sore and eager for silence and a cuddle.

And Harry had honours classes and regular classes and a job at the science lab that he was still struggling to juggle.

But somehow, they did juggle it, carving out space for each other, prioritizing each other like the relationship between alpha and omega demanded.

That, really, was the motivation for bringing Louis to Katy’s party: wanting to include him as much as possible wherever he could. But also— Katy was his coworker at the science lab, and a beta, and that didn’t deter her at all from harbouring a _massive_ crush on Harry.

And so Harry thought: what better way to deter her than to introduce her to Louis?

+

Louis was furious. Harry could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves, making the air in the car feel dense. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his mouth pressed into an angry line, jaw clenched. He stared out the passenger window the whole drive home.

Harry pulled into a parking space and cut the engine. "Can we talk?"

"No," Louis said. He got out of the car and slammed the door shut.

Harry dropped his head against the steering wheel for a second. He didn't feel like dealing with this right now. He honestly just wanted to go inside and go to sleep. He stepped out of the car, calmly shutting the door.

Louis headed into the lift and jabbed the button for the 4th floor, standing in the corner opposite Harry.

"If you don't talk to me, we can't work it out."

Louis huffed a laugh. "I don’t think we can work this out. I don’t think you even know how."

"You won’t at least let me try?"

“What’s even the point? We shouldn’t even have to talk about this. This shouldn’t be something we have to deal with. Why bother?”

"That doesn’t-- “ It didn’t make sense. “You could also try to be mature and talk to me."

"Fuck off," Louis muttered. The lift came to a stop and he walked out, fishing his keys out of his pocket. Harry's annoyance flared. He followed Louis into the apartment and shut the door behind himself. He checked for Paulie’s keys on the hook by the door and exhaled a sigh of relief when he saw they weren’t there.

"I can't even fucking believe you’ve been hanging out with her all this time,” Louis said, because actually he did want to talk about it. “I can’t fucking believe you let that her claw at you all night like I wasn't even there. She was fucking drooling."

"Louis, I told her I was with you."

"After she'd been riding your dick for half a bloody hour!” Louis said, tossing his coat onto the couch.

"That's not true _at all._ "

"Yeah, it is! It is, and you know it! And you liked it. I looked like a fucking idiot. I wouldn't have come-- You shouldn't have invited me if that was how it would be," he said. "You're supposed to be _mine_. And I looked like a kid with a crush on you. We’re mated for fuck’s sake and I might as well have been queued up for a chance with you."

Harry followed him into their bedroom, closing this door too, leaning back against it with his arms crossed over his chest. Louis just kept going. He wasn't even making sense. "You’d think you've never gotten attention from someone before. Jesus. You should have just let her part her legs for you. I'm sure she would have.”

“Come the fuck on—”

Louis kicked off his shoes. They hit the opposing wall. "I'm sure you wanted to. Clearly, you've gotten bored with me or something. Which is fucking fine, believe me. In fact, don't let me keep you from her."

"Are you being serious?" Harry clenched his jaw. "We're not actually arguing about this. This is stupid."

"We _are_ arguing about this. That's exactly what's happening right now. ‘Cause apparently I'm the only one who understands how relationships work."

"You're full of shit. Three seconds after you met Katy, you were looking all over the fucking room for someone to flirt with. At least I’ve never flirted with anyone on purpose. You fucking look for opportunities to make me jealous."

"Oh, piss off."

"You only like talking about this when it's convenient for you. When you can be a proper infant about it," Harry said. "You’re drunk and you’re tired and you’re angry and you’re not making any sense. I’m not doing this. I'm sleeping on the couch and we’ll talk in the morning after you've calmed down."

"I don't want to calm down. Why do you always do that? God, that's so frustrating. You censor yourself when you're mad. Like you think I can't handle it. I can handle you just fine."

"What are you on about?” Harry was losing his mind. And was it hot in the room or was that just him? “ _You're_ the one who's angry."

"So are you," Louis said, standing and getting in his space. "If you're angry, just be angry. Stop pretending like it's just me. Be angry, Harry. Come the fuck on."

At that, Louis shoved his hands into Harry's chest.

It was like a timer was set right then. Harry could practically hear it ticking where it resided somewhere in his chest, wherever Louis' hands connected with his body.

"Stop it," Harry warned.

"No," Louis shot back, pushing him again. "I want you to show me how angry you are. Because I don't fucking believe you."

Harry breathed in through his nose and exhaled slow. "I said stop," he said it quietly.

"And I said no," Louis snapped. "I pissed you off, right? Then fucking do something about it. You're an alpha, aren’t you? Be a fucking alpha."

And the timer went off.

The next time Louis' hands made contact with his chest, Harry trapped them within his own, curling his fingers around his wrists. He picked Louis up and threw him over his shoulder, so quickly Louis yelped. And then Harry was dropping him unkindly onto the mattress and caging his body in.

He pinned Louis’ hands to the bed, panting. "I said _stop_."

Louis was breathing heavily, startled into silence, his blue eyes wide.

"Stop testing me." Harry tightened his grip on his hands.

Louis bit down on his lips, his face and neck flushed. "Fuck me," he said suddenly. He wrapped his legs around Harry's hips, grinding upwards.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed. He pulled his hips back, moving them away. "I don't think so."

"Please," Louis groaned. “Do it hard. Show me how angry you are."

It was so unbelievably hot in the room, the air around them and the space between their bodies.

Harry was angry. He was tired and angry. He had enough going on with classes and work without having to worry about Louis too. He’d been doing a good job, he thought. He’d been doing his best, managing their relationship. And he _was_ absolutely fucking angry that somehow that wasn’t enough.

Harry kept both of Louis' hands pinned under one of his own. His free hand he used to reach down between them and unbuckle Louis' jeans. He dragged them down his legs and threw them. He didn't bother removing his shirt. He got his own jeans open and pushed them down enough to expose himself.

Another round of slick leaked past Louis' rim probably wetting the bed. Harry ran the head of his cock over him, teasing.

Louis licked his lips, looking down between their bodies at Harry's cock.

"Look at me," Harry said. Louis did. "You were right. I am angry."

"I knew that—”

"You're done talking, Louis," Harry said. Louis fell silent again. More slick, filling the air with that smell that only seemed to piss Harry off in the moment.

"You want to see me angry, yeah? Alright then," he said. And he pushed into him, all the way, until he'd bottomed out.

Louis threw his head back. "Fuck yes."

"You probably did all of this just so I would fuck you," Harry said, snapping his hips against him, driving him further up the bed. It all made sense now. It was just too bad Harry hadn’t caught it sooner.  
  
He crowded over him. Louis gasped when Harry's next thrust nearly shoved him off the bed. His hand shot out to the bedside table.

"Fucking hell," he groaned.

Harry grabbed his hand Louis and pinned it back to the bed. "You're mine," he said.

Louis nodded. "Yes. Yeah I am."

"And I'm yours. Only yours."

"Yeah," Louis breathed. Harry’s next thrust was decimating, making Louis' toes curl behind his back and his eyes roll. Harry pushed his t-shirt up beneath his armpits and sucked his nipple until Louis keened. "Fuck, Harry. Yes — "

His "yes" was long and drawn out. There were tears collecting in his eyes and he’d bitten his lip so hard he'd drawn a bit of blood. And then he was coming, on his stomach and Harry's t-shirt. And the whole time his back was arched off the bed, his heels digging into Harry's thighs, and a broken groan leaking out of his open mouth.

And if it hadn’t happened already, the sight of him then was enough to shove Harry into the depths of his rut. Harry yanked his dirtied shirt off and tossed it away. Harry was relentless and mindless as he chased his orgasm. He wanted to sink his teeth into Louis’ plush arse.  
Maybe he would.

He pulled out, even though the base of his cock had swollen up almost enough to lock him inside and he got down between Louis' cheeks. He stretched him open a bit and then pulled him back against his mouth, pushing his tongue forward.

"Harry!" Louis wailed.

Harry buried his face between his cheeks and Louis buried his face in the mattress with a muffled cry. His body shook. Harry felt it where his hands were gripping Louis' arse and knew he’d just come again. But he kept licking at him like Louis was made entirely of water and a drought had been going on for years. He wrapped an arm around Louis' waist, trapping him against his mouth even though Louis squirmed like he couldn’t take it.

"Stop moving," Harry said, voice completely ruined, and hardly his own.

Louis stilled immediately, as much as he could when Harry pushed his tongue as deep as it would go. "Oh, _god_ — " Louis' voice ended on a sob. He might actually have started crying. Harry wasn't sure. But his body was trembling and his words were garbled. "Feels so good, baby. Please-"

Harry couldn't get his mind to clear. And he couldn't stop. Everything told him to keep going, keep Louis moaning for him the way he was, until there was nothing left to do but knot him. He hadn't ever fucked Louis during a rut, for fear of accidentally popping a knot, which was guaranteed to happen when he couldn't control himself. And since they'd mated, there still hadn't been a place or an opportunity for it to happen until now.

" _Please_ ," Louis whined.

Harry pulled his mouth away. His sweaty palms slipped on Louis’ hips and his turned him back over and dragged his hips upward, and sank into him once more. “Gonna knot you now,” Harry said. “I’m going to knot you and then- fuck, I’m going to do it again and again.”

“Yeah, yeah, please. Whatever you want.”

Harry came after two short thrusts, locking himself inside, drawing deep eager breaths.

They said nothing while Harry spilled into him.

They said nothing when Harry was finally able to pull out. Or when Harry got a towel and wiped him clean, kissing the tears off his cheeks. Or when he settled into bed behind him.

Only when Harry pulled him close did Louis murmur, "I love you."

Harry kissed the back of his neck. "I love you too."

+

Harry woke Louis up with his mouth latched around his right nipple, pushing his legs apart. It took Louis only a second to come to full consciousness, groaning into his pillowcase while Harry slipped his fingers into him.

Louis' hands twisted in the sheets as Harry lifted Louis’ hips off the bed, just enough to drag him close and fit him onto his cock.

+

It happened again in the morning while Louis was pouring himself a glass of water. He poured Harry a glass too, which Harry managed only a sip of before the fever made his skin begin to itch. He tried to resist this time, biting his bottom lip hard, walking towards the opposite end of the kitchen. Louis glanced at him, confusedly at first before he picked up on the scent. His eyelids sunk to half-mast. He got wet so quickly, bowing his head slightly, exposing his neck. Harry whimpered, drawing up behind him, trapping Louis' wrists against the countertop, running his nose over the side of his neck.

“Sorry,” he murmured, dragging Louis’ pants down his thighs.

Louis shook his head, spread his torso out flat on the counter, his body rocked by Harry's first thrust. He shot a hand out in an attempt to hold onto the sink faucet, knocked his glass over, sending water splashing against their fevered skin.

It did nothing to soothe Harry. Nothing could except Louis.

+

**16 September 2018**

In the moonlight, Harry took note of his damage. There were bruises around Louis' wrists and on his hips in the shape of Harry's hands. There were bites and marks on his neck and on his collarbones. Harry examined them all, feeling guilt twisting in his gut so forcefully he could vomit.

He left their bed quietly and headed into the kitchen and didn’t return until morning, carrying breakfast and a cup of tea.

"Hi," Louis said, smiling. “You seem better.” He yawned and stretched, pulling himself upright. When he winced, Harry frowned and set the food down quickly.

Louis blinked at the roses Harry had purchased earlier that morning and placed on the bedside table. Then he looked at the breakfast. "What's all this?"

"An apology," Harry said. "For Friday night...and all of yesterday. I don’t know what happened—"

"Um. You were in a rut? Which I think I _pushed_ you into," Louis said. "So if anyone's at fault, it's me."

Harry shook his head. "Louis-"

"Also," Louis cut him off, pointing at him with his fork. "That was the best sex we’ve ever had. And I don't regret a second of it."

Louis sliced a portion of his waffle, made sure to get a bit of strawberry too, and speared it with his fork. He raised it to Harry's mouth. “You need to regain your strength.”

Harry looked at him, his expression fond. He opened his mouth and leaned in, allowing Louis to feed him.

"I love you," Louis said, slicing into the waffle again. "I want to take care of you like you take care of me, capiche?”

He had a bite of waffle himself and rolled his eyes, making an orgasmic sound. Harry laughed. "So good, babe," Louis said, taking a sip of his tea. “What is that, lemon?”

“Just a tad,” Harry said.

Louis fed Harry another piece, had more for himself, and when the plate was empty, Harry moved closer, curling his arms around Louis' soft middle, pushing his face into the warm curve of his neck. He listened to Louis' brief burst of laughter and felt a sweet sort of pain unfurl in his chest. It hurt sometimes to love someone this much. He didn't know what to do with it all. He thought maybe one day he wouldn't be able to contain any more of it. And then perhaps he'd just— explode.

Louis returned the dish to the bedside table and then he turned to face Harry, hugging him back. They kissed and parted with smiles on their lips.

"I'm sorry I hurt you,” Harry said. “Really.”

"Not any more than I wanted you to.”

“You don’t have to be that way if you… want it rough,” Harry said. “You don’t have to push. I can be that way, I think, if that’s what you like. But I’d rather not be upset and in a rut at the same time. I think— I don’t want to lose control like that again.”

“That’s fair,” Louis said. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

"I’m sorry about Katy. I’ll talk to her."

Louis shrugged. "You don’t have to do that.”

“I do.”

“I'll get spoiled."

"You deserve to be spoiled."

"Being spoiled isn't good for anyone, H. It turns you into a twat. As if I'm not one already."

"I think you're perfect."

"Do you really? Honestly? Has the last year not proven to you how very not perfect I am? Or at least, the night before should've done it?"

"You were annoying, for sure." Harry said. "And I hate that you flirt with other boys to make me jealous. If you're mad at me, you should just tell me."

"I'm sorry," Louis said.

Harry believed him. They both were. Theirs was a real proper relationship: falling out and falling into each other, fighting and forgiving. "But you're still perfect to me," Harry said. "You're mine and I wouldn't want you any other way."

“Do you think you’ll feel that way forever?” Louis asked. “Even when we’re married with sloppy children? And I get old and we both get miserable?”

“Even then,” Harry said. “Absolutely.”

"We'll always make it work, won’t we?”

Harry nodded. “That's what we do."

Louis smiled. "What we've always done."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't shake the feeling that there's some loose end I forgot to tie... If you're left with questions about a thing, feel free to ask! Please know that H/L have a daughter at some point named Holly and get married straight out of uni and live happily ever after, in that order.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me and sticking by this story for SO long. I'm beyond happy to be finished and I hope you're happy with the ending. Thanks in advance for your comments and kudos. And much much love to you all!

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://alienproof.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/stylinson_city)


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